


Dear You

by bellaaanovak



Series: Dear You [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boy King of Hell Sam, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Suicidal Thoughts, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-04 06:35:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellaaanovak/pseuds/bellaaanovak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is dead. His year is up, and he went to hell. Fifteen days after Dean dies, Sam finds a box of 82 letters all written to him from Dean. These are Dean’s letters along with Sam’s life progressing both positively and negatively. In other words, my twist on the four months Sam was without Dean.</p><p>This is a chapter by chapter fic demonstrating the love Sam and Dean Winchester really have for each other, especially the romantic love Sam has for his brother. Whether you ship wincest sexually/romantically or not, I recommend checking this out, because it shows the importance of their brotherly relationship as well, if not more. I like feedback, so grant me with some of that too in order to motivate me to keep writing this thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stop Your Crying

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters including this first one have been edited since first posting. I couldn't handle all the errors in the timeline so I religiously edited the chapters I've posted.

Sam couldn’t remember anything without Dean.

There was nothing he's said, or done, that never had any resemblance to Dean. As far as he knew, anyways. One could argue Dean wasn't involved during the dangerously blissful, scary year and a half with Jessica, but they'd be wrong. Dean still called every morning at eleven just to see if everything was okay. Getting used to the lack of his voice was something Sam was not ready to deal with.

Sam thought he was going to be okay. He knew what the son of a bitch did.  _He_ made the deal.  _He_ had a year to live.  _He_ risked his own damn life for his little brother. Sam was aware Dean was going to die if he did not stop it. He never stopped and thought about how excruciatingly difficult losing Dean would actually be.

He was there since Sam was born, and then he wasn't. 

It has been two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty six hours.

It's felt like ten years.

 

 

It wasn't until the fifteenth day Sam found the letters. He had reached into the glove compartment of the Impala to get his registration for highway patrol. Speeding. Luckily, there was no ticket because _his wife was in labor with their very first child and he’s never violated traffic laws before_. He dared not to go in the glove compartment considering Dean’s gun was thrown in there on day zero, never to be held by anyone but Dean.

Upon placing the registration carefully back in the compartment, his hand hit a box he didn’t know was there. It was simple. A dark brown, wooden box. On the top,  _FOR SAM_ was carelessly etched into the wood with a knife, presumably. _Dean's?_ Sam checked into the first motel he could find.

There were three sets of letters; each letter was sealed in an envelope and each group of envelopes tied with a different colored rubber band. One set had specific reasons to read them.  _Read this after a difficult hunt. Read this after sex. Read this before you go to bed on a Saturday. Read this on my birthday. Read this on your birthday. Read this when you’re wasted. Read this when I’m in the shower._ Oh, God. Some of these were written before the deal. Sam knew it; he could tell. He could tell from the titles some were meant to be read with Dean in the room. There were twenty letters in the one set alone with all different kinds of instructions.

The second set didn’t have titles on the envelopes, but dates, in order from November, 2003 to day zero. “Fuck, oh God,” Sam muttered aloud. November, 2003 was two months after he left for Stanford. There were about fifty letters. Fifty pieces of paper Sam was both terrified and ecstatic towards.

The third set only had twelve letters. On each envelope read:  _Read this on the last day of January_ . with each month on each letter. These particular letters looked sadly new. When Sam realized they weren't in order from January to December and instead from May to April, he realized Dean wrote these letters in the last year of his life.

 

Sam wept. He cried, yelled, screamed, and sobbed. The manager of the motel had to threaten to kick him out for him to calm down. Sam couldn't risk being in the Impala, what with the images of his brother scribbling down letters to him. How did Sam not notice? He barely left the older man’s side – especially during the past year.

Loving Dean was the best and worst thing Sam has ever done. What was a drunken experiment to Dean was heaven on earth to Sam. Not telling Dean he loved him before it was far too late is something he will never forgive himself for.  _Ever_ .

“I’m so sorry, Dean…” Sam quietly whimpered into the floor as he sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry,” He turned and picked up the box behind him and pulled the first set of letters out. He fingered through the stack and gently removed one from the grip of the rubber band.

 

_Read this when you’re crying._

With shaking hands, Sam carefully broke open the envelope where it was originally sealed and slid the letter from its home.

 

_Sam._

_I feel like you’re gonna read this a lot. You cry a lot. The day’s January 12. Still got some time, but not much. You know that._

_Quit bein a wimp, Sammy. Go save some people and quit cryin over me. Or, quit crying in general. Can’t help wishing everythin’s about me. You know me_

_T_ _here’s hauntings and deaths and fucking witchy crap happening wherever you are, Sammy. Gotta man up. Gotta take care of them. You’re stronger than you think, Sam_

_Promise_

_Dean_


	2. Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters including this one have been edited since first posting. I couldn't handle all the errors in the timeline so I religiously edited the chapters I've posted.

Dean was right. Well, Dean’s letter anyways. There was a hunt a few miles away. Apparently, according to the witness, a _tall, disgusting, loud creature dragged her boyfriend away_ and it was _faster than hell_. A wendigo. Great. He shut his laptop and turned the dim motel light off, hoping he could get some sleep before talking to the witness the next day. Why there was a witness in the first place, Sam didn’t know. He didn’t particularly care to know how monsters worked inside their fucked up heads. He just hoped he could take care of it alone and manage to not get tied up and drained of his life while in the process.

Not that he would care much.

 

“So, you were… camping?”

Sam was speaking to the witness. A nineteen year old girl named Jane. He didn't like to think monsters actually had preferences, but a 105 pound girl compared to her 175 pound boyfriend probably wouldn't sustain the wendigo's diet. Those things can go months with hardly any food, and during the summer, this guy was enough for it.

“Yeah. M-Mark went to go get some firewood. And I heard him… I heard him scream, and he came running back and behind him was – was this  _thing_ , or… you know, it was probably a bear. It was a bear.”

“Do you really think it was a bear?” Sam furrowed his eyebrows. Denial.

“Yeah. D-definitely a bear.”

“Listen, I’ll believe you. I know no one else does, but I will. I’m gonna find your boyfriend.”

“Okay, it wasn’t a bear. It couldn't have been.” Right about now, Dean would have made a comment about Sam’s puppy dog eyes doing the trick. “The thing was ten feet tall! Loud. I only got a glimpse of it – I was too shocked and terrified to focus. It,” The girl started crying. “It took him before I could get a better look.”

“It’s okay. You’re doing great. Uh, could you tell me the exact location you were camping?”

“You gonna hire a specialist?” Jane took Sam’s notepad and wrote down coordinates.

“I _am_ the specialist.”

 

 

The coordinates pointed to a clearing in the Leech Lake Indian Reservation. It was the first day of June when Sam trekked out there, duffle slung over his arm. It's only been two days since Jane went to the police. The wendigo is probably keeping its food fresh, considering its summer and it doesn't have the extreme desire to eat. Luckily, that meant Mark could still be alive. Flare gun in hand, Sam crawled into a cave he found after about ten minutes of walking.

Sam saw Mark hanging by the ceiling and there was a pulse. “Thank God,” he said aloud. By the looks of it, there wasn’t that much blood loss. He cut the ropes holding him up and laid him on the cave floor carefully. Unlike his brother the last time they hunted one of these bastards, Sam didn’t recklessly call the creature to him but instead waited for it. He cowered in the shadows as the wendigo entered the cave. As soon as it got close enough, Sam stood up and shot the creature in the chest with the flare gun, and it screamed and fell apart.

It didn’t get any easier watching from the first time.

Sam helped Mark out of the cave and back to where the Impala was parked. He woke up while they were driving – still extremely out of it, but aware he was free, because he repeated, “Thank you,” over and over. 

Once they returned to Jane’s house, she came running towards Sam as he held Mark up. She thanked him and asked if it was _really over_ like they all do. He just smiled, nodded, slid back into the Impala, and drove back to the motel.

Sam trudged into the room and threw his duffle onto the bed closest to the door. Pulling out the box from under the bed he slept in, Sam flipped through the envelopes.

 

_Read this after a difficult hunt._

The younger Winchester pulled the letter from the envelope and sat down on the side of the bed, shaking his leg in anticipation.

 

_Sam,_

_If you’re reading this, you must be alive. Awesome. That makes one of us._

Sam stopped reading and stood up from the bed, pacing. “What the hell is wrong with you, Dean?” he said to no one.

 

_I’m proud of you. Whatever the hunt was, you did it. You saved a sorry son of a bitch or two. Proud of you Sammy._

_Keep doin it. I want you to live a normal life but we both know that cant really happen, not without something catchin up with us_

_Whether or not you had help you still saved somebody and wiped some evil fucker off the map. Proud of you_

_Dean_

_PS if you die im gonna kill you_


	3. Deal with the Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters including this one have been edited since first posting. I couldn't handle all the errors in the timeline so I religiously edited the chapters I've posted.

Seeing Bobby was always a pleasure.

It was extremely difficult ignoring the man’s phone calls for two weeks, but the day after the wendigo hunt, Sam finally gave in and drove to the old salvage yard. He _really_ needed a friend. Next to Dean, Bobby was the only person – alive, anyways – Sam could trust and look to for advice or help. It _is_ just what he needed – especially after all this nonsense with the letters. Not only did his brother die, but his idea of a lover died with him.

 

Sam nervously rapped on the wooden door three times. Bobby’s gruff voice called out through the door.

“Yeah?”

“B-Bobby. It’s Sam.”

Five seconds later, the door swung open, and as Sam let out a smile he was being pulled into the house by Bobby, who slammed the door and triple locked it.

“Whoa, Bobby, what’s going on?” Sam was grabbed into a rough hug with the older man. “Bobby,” Sam pulled away and held him by the shoulders. “It is… It’s great to see you, but… you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“Got a demon downstairs,” Sam furrowed his eyebrows as Bobby spoke. “Lookin’ for you.” The man walked into the kitchen and pulled a half empty bottle of whiskey from a cabinet. Sam watched intently as he poured himself and Sam a glass.

“Why would a demon be looking for me?” Sam took the glass without hesitation, downing the contents in a second. He made a grimace and coughed; the whiskey was bitter and warm as it slid down his throat. He hasn’t had anything alcoholic to drink since before day zero.

“Got me, kid. Keeps claimin’ a bunch of nonsense about your brother.”

“Dean? The demon is talking about Dean?” Sam’s voice was hitched – it felt like he couldn’t breathe, but his heart was working ten times faster than normal. At least that’s what it felt like.

“Last I checked he was the only brother you got,” Bobby muttered. “Yeah, you idgit, _Dean_.”

Ignoring Bobby’s arguments, Sam ran as fast as his legs would take him downstairs to the basement.

 

There in the small, wooden chair was a short woman in her early twenties with long brunette hair and blood dripping from her lip. _Evil bitch,_ Sam growled in his mind. He considered himself lucky to not have witnessed a demon saying Dean's name. It would have been unclean. Filthy.  _Wrong_.

“S-Sam?” The demon whimpered. The voice was broken into so much pain; Sam pitied the poor woman inside of her more than he wondered how this demon knew his name. As he briefly thought about it, a few other demons along the way including the smart ass who he tried to deal with have spoken of the Winchesters’ fame _downstairs_. The young hunter shuddered knowing he was now the only one left to carry on the bogus legacy Hell associated with them. “Sam, oh my… oh my _god_ , Sam…”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Who are you?” Sam yelled, flinging holy water from Bobby’s flask onto the demon. She screamed in protest and her eyes flashed black.

“You don’t recognize me?”

Suddenly everything went black; blacker than the demon’s eyes. There was something about them. Something about  _her_ that caught Sam completely off guard. The way she smirked at him even as she was writhing in pain strapped to an uncomfortable chair. Something made Sam figure he has seen those particular eyes before.

“Ruby.”

 

 

Ruby drank three ancient bottles of whiskey from Bobby’s _ancient_ liquor cabinet and she was barely buzzed. Supernatural beings and their tolerance to alcohol was probably the only thing Sam would ever envy of them. Ever.

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” Bobby had left per Sam’s request on a "supply run" and the demon explained everything to him, starting from being banished from hell to finding a girl whose soul has retired and camping out in some abandoned house in the woods outside of Sioux Falls.

“Yeah. It’s gonna hurt, but I gotta get down there. Your brother’s down there, Sam.” Ruby chimed.

“You think I don’t know that?” he snapped back. Ruby smiled. The new vessel – God, Sam couldn’t believe he’s actually using that term… _vessel_ – was gorgeous. Gorgeous? No.

Definitely not gorgeous.

“So you’re saying you  _want_ to be exorcised just so you can see Dean?” Sam said with a shaking hand.

“I _just_ need to see where they’re keeping him so it’ll be… _easier_ to get him out.” Ruby took another swig of whiskey as Sam felt a chill throughout his entire body. She didn’t have to say anything more before the younger Winchester escorted her into the basement and tied her up into the chair under the devil’s trap painted on the ceiling. “Keep this body fresh for me, Sam,” Ruby cried weakly as Sam chanted Latin as quickly as he could.

Sam finished it off and the room was contaminated with the demon’s screams and black smoke.

 

The sound of the front door slamming and locking three times signaled Bobby was home. Sam ran upstairs.

“Did I hear screamin’?” Bobby muttered as he set three large brown paper bags on his small table.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, demon was mouthing off so I exorcised it. She – _it_ didn’t know anything about Dean.” Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. His bangs have grown out. He thought about cutting them often, but knew waking up and seeing that would just make him think the past year hasn’t happened and he would get his hair ruffled by his big brother as he woke up and –

“Son?” Bobby’s voice broke the trance. “You hear me?”

“No, sorry, Bobby,”

“Can’t blame you. Been dozin’ off myself a lot. Anyways, I said good work with that demon. Suckers know not to mess with you, boy.” Bobby smiled a sad, empathetic smile, as if he could read Sam’s painful thoughts.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” Sam broke an awkward silence as he assisted Bobby in putting the groceries - if they could even be called that - where they belonged. He came across a jar labeled _blood of lamb_. Where did someone even get this crap? He figured it would be better not to ask.

“Stay as long as you like, Sam.  _Mi casa su casa_ .”

“Thanks, Bobby.”

The two men finished placing everything where it needed to be. “Uh, I’ll go dispose of the body.” Sam said as Bobby headed upstairs to his bedroom. The older man nodded towards Sam. He went downstairs into the basement, taking Ruby’s body and the four bags of ice he requested from Bobby into a small shed halfway across the salvage yard. Sam placed her body in a large crate in the shed on top of two ice bags, and two ice bags on top of that. If Ruby really had been banished out of Hell, it wouldn’t take her very long to come back to the body.

It should be fine.

 

When Sam got back to the house, he climbed into the Impala, pulling out a pair of his sweats and two fresh t-shirts from a bag in the backseat. He could wear the jeans over again. After all, according to Dean, they were his favorite. Reluctantly, Sam grabbed the wooden box and brought it inside with him. He locked up and climbed up the creaking stairs into the guest room.

The last time he slept in this bed he was barely fourteen. His father stopped dropping them off at Bobby’s for days on end considering  _they were practically adults and could take care of themselves in a motel for a few days_ . God, he was only fourteen.

He was only fourteen when he discovered he wanted to be done with this life, and he craved to take his big brother with him.

Here he was, though, at twenty-five, placing a loaded gun on the nightstand and lining the door with salt to keep demons out. Sam painfully changed from Dean’s favorite jeans and into the sweats he bought following day zero. He had worn them a thousand times but they felt oddly foreign – perhaps because Dean has never seen them. He climbed into the large, comfortable bed and sighed somewhat happily at the soft mattress. He had been sleeping in motels and in the Impala for the past two weeks. A real mattress felt like heaven under him.

Almost hesitantly, Sam pulled out the wooden box and lifted the  _Read this_ stack, flipping through the letters. He prematurely decided he would read a few of the dated ones the next day. Sam couldn’t find one relevant to his day like the last two had been, but he found one that could match his every night.

 

_Read this every night before you go to sleep._

Sam opened the letter hastily and unfolded the paper.

 

_Hey Sammy._

_I’ve got a month to live. i sound like a cancer patient. though they go out slower than i will_

_(will. not might)_

_Yeah yeah I promised id try to get myself out of this but come on sam this is kind of_

Sam stopped reading. He couldn’t decide if his tears were brought on by anger or sadness. Maybe both. “Dean, I swear,” he said aloud through his sobs. “If this is just a letter with you bitching about your deal, I will kill you.” He again spoke to no one.

 

_inevitable. demon deal and all that_

_anyways, enough of that. i really want you to sleep well tonight. And every night after tonight, and every night until youre dead. But don’t die, you hear me? One of us has got to stay alive to prove some kind of point. Right? even when you do, and you will 'cause everyone does, you better be in heaven with mom. tell her i'm sorry if you ever actually see her_

_Think about me, okay?? Think about us_

_Ps -- can i say ps if the letter isn’t technically over yet??? -- if you cant do the math (which I’m sure you can holy fuck) we uh, we had sex about a month and a half ago and I can’t stop thinking about it I really can’t, sam you’re wonderful and I need you to dream about that tonight stop thinking about my rotting corpse and think about us think about how good it felt when I pushed inside of you for the very first time_

_I couldn’t bring myself to tell you any of this in person which I guess is why im writing this letters_

_God I feel like a walking fucking nick sparks novel_

_Anyways, goodnight sam_

_Love_

_Dean_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Dean said in the letter about them having sex will only be brought up in detail again one or two more times, hence the "mature" and not "explicit" rating.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!


	4. Mad World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters including this one have been edited since first posting. I couldn't handle all the errors in the timeline so I religiously edited the chapters I've posted.

It was especially cold on the particular morning Sam woke up, only a few days after he arrived at Bobby’s house. The weather was shifting quicker than Sam preferred. He hated the cold. It reminded him of death, and death reminded him of Dean, and of Dad, and Mom, and Jess… and practically everyone he’s ever considered a friend or family. He couldn’t imagine what he would do without Bobby, Ellen, or Jo. Even Ruby kept him stable and partially sane. Sane enough not to kill himself or attempt to make any more deals, that is.

The Harvelles – especially Ellen – were Sam’s support system. Bobby was great, fantastic even, but something about the Harvelles’ charm and charisma along with their strength and pride gave Sam a pit in his stomach making him wish he could be more like them. They seemed fearless, even with losing a father and a husband. Sam was really inspired by them… almost jealous.

 

Sam got out of the mattress inhibiting Bobby’s guest room and shivered, already missing the warmth of the comforter. It was a king sized, Batman themed comforter he bought knowing there would be some freezing cold nights where he didn’t have the money for a motel room and would have to sleep in the backseat of the Impala. There was no way he could leave the heating on overnight, or buy a portable heater to stick in the car, so he impulsively bought the comforter and a huge fluffy pillow. He didn’t regret it, really, it was beautifully comfortable. He dug through his duffle bag and sighed at his Stanford hoodie before putting it on. At times, before day zero, he wished he could go back and do it over again and not leave with Dean so Jessica would be safe. Sometimes, however selfish he thought it was, he wished he could have taken Jessica with them and explain everything to her on the road.

Most of the time, he wished his mother would have just stayed in her fucking bed so she would be alive to see her son turn one, whether or not Yellow-Eyes bled in his mouth. They could all deal with that together, like a family. They would have obviously dealt with it differently than going on a mission from hell to find and destroy the son of a bitch. They still would have been together. It wasn’t fair for Sam to be in this alone.

 

Sam pulled a fresh pair of socks on and shuffled into the hallway and down the stairs. He shivered, even in the sweatshirt. God, it was really cold. It's June, but it's also South Dakota. He noticed the coffee machine was in the process of brewing a fresh pot and sighed in relief. He forgot he prepared one the night before. The time read 9:53 AM and he ended up falling asleep around eleven. At least he got some sleep. He sat at the small kitchen table fumbling with his fingers as the coffee brewed. It was too quiet for his liking. Usually Bobby would keep the house active, but he left the previous afternoon for a hunt. Even when Sam argued to go with, the older man told him to stay and watch over the house, but he knew he just wanted him to rest.

The loud beeping of the coffee machine pulled Sam from his thoughts and he stood up to look for a mug in the abundance of cupboards Bobby had in his kitchen. God damn, this man really needed to organize. Sam knew, though, if he were to bring it up, Bobby would just gruffly argue that  _this_ was organized to him. He finally found a mug and poured the steaming coffee into it, being careful not to spill. After he took the first sip, he was relieved to figure out it wasn’t actually as hot as it looked.

A loud few raps on the door almost made Sam drop the cup.  _Fuck, it’s so early. Who could that be?_ Sam sighed and cleared his throat. He looked out the peekhole and there was a kid at the door – literally  _at_ the door. There was a half circle of salt and ground silver two feet from the door and a devil’s trap under the floor mat, so this kid was either human or something not vulnerable to salt, silver, or a devil’s trap. He groaned and unlocked the three locks, swinging the door open. A stocky blonde kid, about nineteen, with puppy dog eyes and a huge backpack slung over his shoulder was standing directly on the door mat.

“Uh…” Sam started. “Who are you?”

“Are you Sam Winchester?” The kid said.

“I think I asked you first,” The kid squinted at Sam and shifted his position.

“My name is Adam Milligan. Are you Sam Winchester?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sam replied, confused. How could this kid _possibly_ know who he was? Maybe he was a family member in a hunt or something, but he was sure he’s never seen him before. The kid, Adam, gestured to come in and Sam hesitantly moved out of the way to allow him inside Bobby’s house. He turned and relocked the door three times as Adam looked around.

“Different than I expected,” Adam said.

“What? Did Bobby send you or something?” Sam turned and studied the kid.

“No. I don’t really know how to explain this gently, but I’m kind of your brother.”

“Define kind of. Define _brother_.” Sam said without hesitation. There was no way this kid could be his brother. He and Dean spent almost every single day with their father before he died, and the longest time he went without seeing him was when he was at Stanford, and the kid was far too old for it to be that recent.

 Adam turned around to face Sam and leaned on the wall. “John Winchester is my father,” Sam jumped and his breath hitched.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying. I have one of his journals – I didn’t even _know_ about you and uh, and Dean. Where is he, by the way?” Sam froze in place as Adam dug through his bag for the journal, presumably, and looked around Bobby’s house for a man who wasn’t there.

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t know I had - "

“No, about… About _Dean_ ,” Sam could hardly feel his legs.

“I’m just wondering where he is. Dad talked about you guys all the time in this journal.”

“Dean is dead. So is my dad.”

 

Adam then looked up at him sharply. “I know about Dad, okay? I just found out a couple of weeks ago about all of this… Dean is _dead_?”

“Yeah, he’s fucking dead, now do you want to tell me who the fuck you are?” If he had one, Sam would pull out his gun. But he didn’t, so he just glared and sized himself up to the kid.

“Look, calm down, dude, I just found this address and the phone number of the guy who lived here, Bobby. Called him up, told him who I was and he knew about me. Told me you were here, and I guess I figured you knew about me, too.”

Sam remembered the words Bobby said to him days ago when he arrived. _Last I checked he's the only brother you got_. When was the last time he checked? The Stone Age?

Sam sat down quietly and motioned for Adam to sit down as well. He took his coffee in his hand and sipped it as Adam slid the journal across the table. Sam recognized it immediately. It was _definitely_ one of Dad’s. The etched in pentagram and _J.W._ made it obvious enough. It hasn’t been around for years like the one he left Dean, though.

 

“Where did you even find this?”

“My mom’s storage. She uh, she just died. Couple of days before I found that. I talked to Bobby about her death, because it was… it was fucking devastating, I mean, I was _right there_ and the thing didn’t kill me. It looked _exactly like me_. It was pretty terrifying, and after I found the journal, I called him up. He said it was a, a _ghoul_? Like in fucking Scooby-Doo,” Adam inhaled sharply and Sam listened intently. God, the poor kid. Having his mom go like that. He nudged for him to continue. “I read through that thing for hours on end, over and over, still trying to piece together what happened. What’s really out there. I kept coming across your name, and Dean’s, too,” Sam sighed. Hearing his name still hurt like hell.

“What did he say about us?” Sam asked.

“He never said your last names after your first names, if that makes sense. It was always just _Sam, Dean_ , or _Sammy_. Never associated with a last name, so I figured you guys could have been anyone. Another, uh, another hunter, or whatever.”

“So when did you figure out you were our brother?”

“A photo. Go to the end.” Sam obeyed, and there was the same family photo he carried around of his family before the fire, only this one was clearly photocopied. “It says your names on the back, so I figured you guys were his kids. That’s when I called Bobby about coming here.”

“But you can’t be a day older than sixteen. You came here from… Uh, where _are_ you from?” Sam furrowed his eyebrows and took more of his coffee. The warmth made his stomach feel less queasy.

“I turn seventeen in November. I’m from Minnesota. It wasn’t that far to hitchhike.”

 

Sam glared at the kid. He was right, it probably took him four days tops to get here from his town, but either way, some psychopath could have picked him up. Sam felt a sudden sense of responsibility for him.

 

“When was the last time you slept?” Sam said, noticing the bags under Adam’s eyes.

“Uh… more than twenty-four hours, I can tell you that for sure.” Adam forced a laugh, and seeing the kid smile for the first time was extremely painful.

Adam had the same green eyes Dean did, and the same dimple to the side of his mouth. Adam was his brother, and he resembled Dean so much it almost hurt to look at him.

“You should uh, you should probably get some sleep,” Sam said. “Bobby’s bed is gonna be habitable for the next couple of days. It’s clean, promise.” The older Winchester chuckled and directed him to Bobby’s room as he went upstairs himself. Adam smiled warmly back at Sam as they each entered into their designated temporary rooms.

 

Sam slowly walked in and began to pace. He really needed to get a hold of that.

A brother? Sam was an older brother.

He was always the little brother. This was different. It was a different experience. Sam has felt a little paternal and protective over kids on hunts sometimes, but this was so different. Adam was his _blood_. And here Sam was, a mess in a Batman blanket, when he now had someone else to watch over. Sam did get lonely, and maybe he could leave Adam here for a while for Bobby to train him somewhat, and visit him when he was close by.

Eventually, Sam could start taking him on hunts.

This was nuts.

 

Sam pulled out the newly familiar wooden box from underneath the bed and ignored the _Read this_ pile, because he just figured there would be no letter with the phrase _Read this when you find out about our secret little brother_ written on it. There were almost four weeks 'til the end of the month, so that pile was off limits, too. He looked at the pile in the center. Sam picked a letter out at random. The date was scribbled on the back in blue pen.

 

_February 15, 2005_

Sam was still at Stanford, and his idiot brother wrote him a letter the day after Valentine’s Day. What a jerk. He gently broke open the envelope, careful not to ruin it.

 

_Sam. Sammy!_

_I’m really hungover. This fuckin sucks._

_Last night i got laid by two girls at once and it was actually really awesome but i wish you woulda been here_

_remember a couple years ago for valentines day we (well, i did this part) dressed dad up like cupid while he was sleeping and invited that woman to come to the motel at the crack of fuckin dawn?_

_he literally ran to the door with his gun in his hand, half asleep, wearing a pink headband and angel wings and a fuckin skirt!_

_you were the one who invited her over though, so i guess I can give you credit for that much. man, he was so pissed, he didn't talk to us for at least a week._

_I miss that. I miss you Sammy, I wish youd come home._

_Me and dad need you, even though he never talks about it. He’s not really one for feelings, though, obviously. He’s Dad. I doubt youre ever gonna read this. Maybe you will, someday, and maybe I’ll be the one reading it to you – who knows, honestly_

_I might die tomorrow or you could (which scares me the fuck to death don’t you die on me, sam)_

_Happy valentines day, even if it’s the middle of fall when youre reading this._

_Love dean_

_Ps if you make fun of me for saying ‘love’ I’ll rip your throat out_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adam's age is inaccurate on purpose~~~  
> this IS an AU


	5. Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters including this one have been edited since first posting. I couldn't handle all the errors in the timeline so I religiously edited the chapters I've posted.

Adam has been staying at Bobby’s for four days now, which makes it more than a little difficult for Sam to check on Ruby’s host body or read Dean’s letters. Bobby was supposed to come back today. Sam wished he would hurry up and get home already so Adam could stop nagging him constantly about where he’s going or what he’s reading. Adam was up late last night watching movies on the TV in the living room and was asleep up in Bobby’s room. Sam wondered briefly where he would be sleeping when Bobby came back. Before he woke up, Sam took the opportunity to read one of Dean’s letters. He's read a few of the dated ones in the past four days, and only those, because he still couldn’t be bothered to find one relating to a long lost brother or waiting for a possessed dead girl to knock on the door. There were so many of them, from all different dates. Two of the five had made him cry. He never knew his brother could be such a sap.

Pulling out yet another dated envelope from one of the ends of the stack, he examined the crumpled, yellow tinted envelope and the faded date reading _November 28, 2003_. This was one of the first letters... Sam was unsure if he wanted to _look_ at the damn thing, let alone read what was inside.

Dean  _did_ eventually call him every morning after he left, but it wasn’t until May of 2004 he started the phone calls when he figured he would come home – wherever  _home_ was at the time – for the summer. Sam got into his first bar fight that night, after that first, forty-seven second phone call, and he had imagined the intoxicated man under him as his brother.

Because  _how could he_ call ten months after Sam left? How  _could he_ wait that long to get in touch? Why  _would he_ worship the ground their father walked on, indirectly supporting his nonchalant, bitter agreement of Sam’s college idea, and then  _beg_ Sam to come home – let alone write him these goddamn letters? Sam didn’t realize he was crying until a tear dropped onto the envelope he was holding. He didn’t want to read whatever was inside – not yet. Not today.

He instead pulled out another, more recently dated letter in the middle of the stack. It wasn’t as recent as the deal but after Dean picked him up from Stanford.

 

_April 7, 2007_

Sam opened the envelope as he heard the shuffling of feet enter the kitchen. He would have reached for his gun, but it was upstairs, and Adam wasn’t really a target. He hadn’t even heard him come downstairs – the creaking of those damn steps would have given him away easy, but Sam was obviously so caught up in himself, Adam was not his first priority at the moment.

 

“Adam. You fucking scared me. Gonna get you a bell,” Sam muttered, and Adam snorted.

“Were you crying?” _Great_. That was not something Sam remotely wanted to discuss. It wasn’t like he could lie about it – tears stained his face like rain on a window and his eyes were most likely bloodshot. He figured out that happened while crying during a fit he had in the bathroom two nights ago.

“Yeah. My goddamn brother just died – I think I have a right.” Adam whistled a minuscule little tone and huffed. Sam knew he was being a bit harsh and made a mental note to cut the kid some slack. _His_ brother and his mom, for that matter, had just died too. Adam trudged over to the table and sat across from him, tilting his head towards the half opened envelope.

“What’re you reading? Is it from Dean?” Adam said quietly.

“Yes. Letters from Dean.”

“Can I – can I read the one you’re holding? I don’t know much about Dean. I can read it aloud if you want – I.” Sam froze as Adam talked. In any other situation he would have fidgeted with his bangs. Sam just bit down on his tongue looking for a response. He pulled the letter carefully from the envelope – it wasn’t too long, and skimming over it, he realized there was nothing about – about _them_. He sighed and nodded, handing the letter to Adam.

“Careful.”

 

Adam took it and pursed his lips. Clearing his throat, he began to read.

 

_“Heya, Sammy._

_we just got done with a hunt in jersey. no jersey devil but it was a nest of vamps_

_You did so good in there, man, but for a second I thought I lost you to them_

_I woulda had to behead you… That would not have been pleasant_

_Ok but really you were so awesome. other than dad (and me) you’re the best hunter I know_

_You’re sleeping now. You snore. Shut up Sammy._

Uh, Sam?” Sam looked up at Adam and started drinking his coffee. It was still warm, good.

“Yeah?”

“I can’t tell whether your brother hated you or was completely into you.” Sam choked on the coffee and stared at the kid. How could he have possibly gotten anything about Sam’s feelings for his brother by a couple of compliments?

“W-what do you mean? Into me?” Sam breathed quietly.

“I dunno, he just seemed like a super protective brother. Jealous, even.” Adam squinted suspiciously and Sam sighed again. “There’s not much left… I’ll just keep reading.

 

_You’ve got a pretty bad bruise on your shoulder. I still don’t know why I keep writing you these letters. I'm like a live action Noah Calhoun, Sam_

_Okay well I’m getting tired too. You were smart for sleepin_

_bye sam_ ”

 

Sam chewed on his lip and ran his hands through his hair. _How the holy hell does Dean know the main character of_ The Notebook _by name?_ He was more than a little relived the letter lacked something intimate or personal in it, or something Sam might have missed. He didn’t know what to say – no one but him was supposed to know these letters even _existed,_ let alone read one of them. More than part of him was ecstatic he hadn’t opened the older letter.

“So… You and Dean really do hunt… _things_. Monsters. Vampires.” The present tense of Adam’s statement made Sam flinch, but he ignored it.

“Yeah. Basically.”

“Cool.”

 

 

That night, Bobby returned to Sam and Adam eating pizza in the kitchen. The letters were put away and Sam made Adam swear not to tell Bobby, and how he would tell him when the time was right. Adam was complaining about the lack of "good" food in Bobby’s kitchen – _“Who just has lamb blood in the fucking fridge?” –_ and Sam didn’t want to put the effort into cooking so he ordered a pizza.

“Boys.” Bobby grumbled roughly as he entered and routinely locked the front door three times.

“Hey, Bobby,” Sam said. “Did the hunt go well?”

“Yeah. Had some help from an old bastard friend of mine, Rufus. You boys hold up here okay?” Sam nodded and wondered why Bobby wasn’t making any advances to Adam. He was tired, of course, but Bobby mentioned they’ve only spoken on the phone. He’s being oddly casual. Then Adam stood up and held his hand out.

“I’m Adam.”

“I’m aware. You look like… You look like Dean did as a teenager – sort of. Got his eyes, John’s eyes.” Bobby looked more towards Sam than he did towards Adam. He was right to do so, considering Sam was on the verge of sobbing again. No one had Dean’s eyes but _Dean_.

“Thank you, sir.” Bobby raised an eyebrow towards the kid.

“I ain’t your daddy, boy. Call me Bobby, nothin’ else, hear me?” Adam nodded abruptly.

“Y-yes. Yeah, of course. So uh, who’s gonna train me?”

 

At that, Sam had enough. He got up from the table quickly and without finishing his dinner, walked out the front door and through the salvage yard towards where he was keeping Ruby’s host body. Everything was the way it was, except for one thing.

The box was open and the body was gone.

“Ruby!” He yelled. His voice bounced off of the old cars and he heard footsteps behind him.

“Hey, Sammy.” Sam spun around to see Ruby, just as before. The body was still pale but Ruby was slowly bringing her life force into it.

“Don’t call me that. Only Dean gets to call me that.” Sam growled.

“Alright, touchy. Ready to start?” Ruby bit her lip.

“I don’t know, Ruby… Did… Did you see him?” Sam tilted his head.

“You might wanna sit down.”

 

 

Hearing how Dean has been in hell for what estimated to _five years_ made the anger rushing through his veins more severe than usual. Apparently they were keeping him in the deepest, most horrifying part of Hell, and the details he demanded from Ruby made him throw up.

He nearly had a tantrum of sorts in front of Ruby. He cried, threw things, punched things… he wasn’t sure he would ever calm down. Five years Dean has been suffering, and the only thing Sam can do about it is repulsive and logical and – horrible…  _helpful_ … natural?

He figured he would give it a shot if it could bring his brother back. How bad could it really taste?


	6. Bitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters including this one have been edited since first posting. I couldn't handle all the errors in the timeline so I religiously edited the chapters I've posted.

The answer was bad. It tasted _dreadfully_ bad.

Sam has been punched in the mouth enough to know the metallic taste of blood dancing on his tongue, but it’s never lingered there for longer than a minute or two before he washed his mouth out.  The taste was there for an hour, considering for more than ten minutes, he was slouching on the bed with his mouth on Ruby’s arm, sucking the blood from it.

And he loved it.

 

 

It was three days since Sam saw Ruby and he missed her. No, he didn’t miss her – he missed the bitter sensation of blood on his lips, roaming around his taste buds and sliding down his throat. He didn’t feel a change at all and Ruby said it would make him so much stronger, but nothing was happening. Nothing was happening yet, anyways. Sam felt so damn useless; this was the only way to release Dean from hell.

He needed his big brother back.

Sam has been training Adam and it was, for lack of a better word, difficult. He was sloppy, slow, and couldn’t hold a gun correctly. Sam stayed far behind him when he shot at a target after he grazed his shoulder with a rock salt bullet. That was the end of training that day. Sam was hungry.

Quickly, he rushed back to the house and got in the Impala, calling to Bobby he was going to pick up dinner. He drove carefully, not wanting to damage Dean’s precious car, and followed directions carefully to an abandoned house ten miles into the woods. He scoffed when he saw the house and got out of the Impala. Walking slowly to the porch, he opened the door and let himself in. Ruby was at the table playing with her knife.

 

“What took you so long?” She smirked without turning around.

“You told me not to come for a few days,” Sam replied, shutting the front door.

“I was expecting you to disagree.” Ruby turned her head and smiled towards Sam, getting up from the table.

 

Sam towered over her host body, but before he knew it, he was the one in the chair, and Ruby was on his lap.

The demon had a point. There was nobody else in there.

 

 

When Sam got back to Bobby’s four hours later, he was high on the glorious liquid rushing through his veins and on Ruby’s beautiful body. She told him how next week they were going to practice their first exorcism to train him on getting Dean out successfully. Before she mentioned it, he realized he didn’t think about him all day. Sam saw that as an improvement. If he really was going to pull Dean out of Hell, he had to be focused and prepared. He couldn’t waste his time moping over his long lost brother when he could be strengthening himself to bring him back.

 

Bobby asked about dinner, and when Sam grunted in response, Adam called him a douche, and it took everything in him not to turn back around and punch him in his face for having a smart mouth. _No one had Dean’s eyes but Dean_.

Sam paced around the guestroom nervously, needing more of what Ruby was giving him. He almost debated going back, but she warned him not to go to the house too frequently. Demons were "on her ass" after she vacationed in Hell for a few days. She forced him to put Devil’s traps and salt lines everywhere, trapping herself in, but keeping other demons out.

His stomach growled and he realized he was actually  hungry, for actual food. He dug through his duffle and found the box of Ritz crackers he stuffed in there on his way to Bobby’s. Silently thanking nobody, he dug around more when his hand hit something. The box.

The box of letters Sam has neglected for three days. The box of confessions and heartbreaking lines of sorrow and Dean’s sarcastic attitude on dying. He regrettably ignored it for twenty minutes of silence, and then munched on crackers during the entirety of three game shows and half of a sitcom when he finally opened it.

 

The end of the month wasn’t for two more weeks, so he stayed away from that pile. Sam was incredibly tempted to read the letter Dean wrote for him when he was at Stanford - the letter he saved when Adam woke up – but he decided not to. He had absolutely no desire to throw a tantrum in Bobby’s house, especially while he was coming down from his high.

Carefully, Sam flipped through the rest of the dated letters. God, there were so many. He’s read seven of the fifty and briefly he wondered if he would die before he got the opportunity to read the rest. The mere idea of dying without knowing  _everything_ Dean would have said to him made his stomach flip in the most wrong way possible.

Finally, the younger but not youngest Winchester decided on two different letters. The first was one of the dated ones, from May of 2006.

 

_May 2 2006_

“My birthday…” Sam whispered. He turned twenty-three that day, and while he was seven months into traveling with Dean, his big brother took him drinking and to a drive-in movie theater. Dean drove three hundred miles _just_ to get to the best one possible. Smiling profusely, he delicately but quickly opened the envelope and pulled the letter out, unfolding it. Two hundred dollar bills fell out of the letter. “Oh, god, you son of a bitch,” Sam laughed to himself. “Gas money, Dean! Food money!”

 

Dean could have used that two hundred dollars for anything in the world – even a girl for the night – and he stuffed it into an envelope for Sam to maybe open in God knows how many years. He remembered seeing a letter specifically for him to read _on_ his birthday, and he guessed it was something different if not money. With Sam’s luck, the letter will just read, _“Congrats on not being dead this year! From the grave, Dean”_. After quiet recollection, he eventually stopped stalling himself and began reading.

 

_Heya, Sammy!!_

_I swear, it isn’t possible for King Kong to look better on anything besides a giant ass canvas_

_I’m sorta drunk right now and so are you so sorry if im not making sense or if my handwriting is messsy_

_Your eyes are so  fucking bright now Sammy i would think you were high cause your pupils are so blown out of proportion. only you don't get high anymore, right college boy?_

_Tonight was really fun, sam_

_It was really nice to kinda take a break from huntin and looking for dad to just be, i dunno,brothers_

_plus, not to mention im still out of fucking whack from that demon plane I swear sam d o not ever make me get on a plane ever again oh my god sam_

_Shut up you keep asking what im writing_

_Do you realize if I tell you im writing you a fucking letter you’ll have my ass for months??? Or, you know, youll just correct my grammar and spelling mistakes even though IM FUCKING DRUNK AND IT DOESN’T MATTER_

_Geeze anyways alright well im gonna just_

_Yeah_

       - _Dean_

Sam had tears welling in his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, they didn’t manifest from sadness. “I wasn’t _high_ , you jackass, I was _horny_ and looking at _you_.” He reveled in it for a while; the happiness and the thoughts of his brother and him traveling around the country – saving people, hunting things. Before everything turned to shit.

He picked up the second letter and knew his content mood was about to change.

 

_Read this after sex._

_Alright, Sam. I am a hundred percent sober right now because this letter is a hundred percent serious. I’m not gonna give you the sex talk again, because who knows how many times I’ve done that, but I am gonna do one out of three things, and you have to choose which one._

_I know what you’re thinking. “How can I make that decision when you’re dead? How will you do anything?” Well, quit thinking that shit. I may be dead (I’m only two weeks into my deal. This is important.), but I can still sorta be your big brother._

_Uh, okay. Read the first paragraph if you had sex with someone who you like and who did not turn into some sort of supernatural being OR die, second paragraph if it was regrettable, and third paragraph (or sentence, really,) if it was with me_

Sam stopped reading at that. This is the second sexual remark Dean has made about them, and it was an entire year before Sam even remotely acted physically on his crude desires. He didn’t know which paragraph to _choose_ so he went with all three.

 

_Okay. Number one. Jesus Christ, Sam, it’s about time you found a girl (or hell, a guy) you did the dirty with and have them not die or something. I know, I know. Touchy subject – but come on, dude. A freakin’ werewolf?! Ok, ok I’m done. But anyways – yeah, Sam. I’m super proud of you. Hell, they could be with you right now reading this letter.Maybe it’s your fuckin soulmate. I’m proud. You deserve it. Also, you better have fucking used protection  because a little mini-you running around will probably drive me to the grave faster than the deal will_

_Dos – sam. Christ. Not another werewolf. Okay, I kid. Sorta. Run as far and as fast as you can, Sammy, cause whether it’s a hormonal five inches over-the-jailbait-bar chick or a super hot married woman, if you didn’t like it, you get the hell out of there. You deserve the best._

_Last, but not least. You’re far too fucking obvious, dude. You’re probably punching walls as you read this, but seriously, man. Quit lookin at my ass, freak. One day I might have to turn around and plant one on you just to get you to shut up about your gooey feelings for me_

_Alright, okay, im finished. Keep kickin, Sammy._

_Dean_

And Sam smiled again, however painfully, because a week before day zero, Dean did just that.


	7. Tremors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters including this one have been edited since first posting. I couldn't handle all the errors in the timeline so I religiously edited the chapters I've posted.

“I just don’t understand! You have a week to live, Dean! Don’t you care one _bit_ about stopping it?!” Sam’s voice broke as he yelled at his brother for the seemingly millionth time that year.

“It’s not… Sammy, it’s gonna happen. I’m gonna die, man. You can’t just stop something like that from happening,” Dean replied all too calmly.

“I have before. The faith healer.”

Dean laughed and took a swig of his whiskey right from the bottle. Sam impulsively reached his arm out and swatted the bottle from his brother’s hands and it fell to the floor of Bobby’s house with a loud smash. Dean cursed and dragged his hand down his face. This wasn’t something Sam could just shrug off his shoulder.

“God dammit, Sam! Don’t you fucking listen?! The demon said if you or me tries to find a loophole or somethin’ to get me out of this deal, they’re gonna kill you! What the hell is that gonna do, huh?” Dean was yelling. Luckily, Bobby wasn’t in the house and Ruby was God knows where. It was humiliating and way too upsetting to see Dean behave like that towards Sam.

“Dean… I’m sorry,” Sam said barely over a whisper.

“What?” He replied.

“I said I was _sorry_ , Dean,” Sam’s voice raised a bit. “I’m sorry I’m doing everything I can to save your life. I can’t imagine life without you, Dean. You’re my hero. My big brother. It’s killing me to think the way I do about you and ever since we…” His voice trailed off as Dean raised a hand. He knew he didn’t like it when he spoke about Dean’s _experiment_ and Sam’s _miracle_. Quickly, to avoid a confrontation he didn’t want, he changed the subject. “You’re my support system.” He moved closer to Dean, and tried his best to get his brother to look at him. He needed him to see the honesty in his eyes. “Dean, I wouldn’t be _anything_ without you.”

 

At that, Dean rapidly turned his head, grabbed Sam’s shoulders and slammed their lips together.

They met with a crash, like old friends or past lovers seeing the first of each other in years.  Sam squeezed his eyes shut to hold back tears but they flowed anyways, and when he opened them, he didn’t see Dean’s horrified but pleased eyes, but the ceiling of Bobby’s guest room.

His body was shaking and his palms had four tiny, crescent shaped wounds on each hand from digging his fingernails into them. The sheets were wet with sweat, his pillow wet with tears, and until now, Sam didn’t realize how much pain his body endured when he thought about Dean. Maybe it was the withdrawals from the blood.  _It's only been a day._ _  
_

It’s only been a day.

 

 

Adam would not leave Sam alone about hunting or training. Since the first nightmare, it’s been a week and a half, and he’s had four more. He tries to stay awake as much as possible, watching the history channel and Game Show Network into the late hours of the night and training Adam whenever he can.

He realized quickly it was a mistake. Almost every time the brothers have a conversation, it has something to do with Adam claiming he’s  _ready_ or  _not a child_ . He was right, though. He’s not a child anymore, and he never will be again. He had the luxury of being a  _child_ , being a  _teenager_ , being a  _person_ , not a hunter.

You can’t be a kid and be a hunter at the same time.

Sam tries his best to keep away from the letters, considering if he reads one, he might get so upset he’ll fall asleep. That just means more nightmares.  After the first one, they progressively got worse.

The second one was only two nights later. Sam thought it wouldn’t happen again –  _it_ being waking up drenched in blood, sweat, and tears. Although he was tempted to compare the dream to something he had seen when Jessica died it was hard to do so. The dreams in themselves were similar.  He just kept seeing Dean die over and over again, in the same way.  It was like what the Trickster did to him, but worse, because he can’t just wake up to Dean’s stupid, smiling face.

The third nightmare wasn’t the worst, but Sam thought it would be.  Dean came back, and they made love, but he was a demon. Not possessed by one. Dean had become a demon.  It was a dream Sam couldn’t wake up from and when he finally did, it was with scratches and open wounds on his arms, palms, and stomach.

For five more days after that, Sam walked around comprehending how it could get any worse. Until he had the fourth nightmare – when Dean came back but had no romantic feelings towards Sam and told him he never has and never will – he was almost positive it couldn’t.

 

“So, uh, Sam.” Adam’s voice interrupted Sam’s deep thoughts and he lifted his head to look at the kid. “Earlier I heard Bobby talking about a hunt in Salt Lake City. Some spirit thing. What d’ya say we go, huh? It’s fourteen hours. We can get there in less than a day’s drive.”

Sam squinted at his younger brother. It sounded an awful lot like something an experienced hunter would say, and as good as it was Adam gaining experience to protect himself, it still made Sam feel shitty for wanting to agree. The whole ordeal would most likely take a week at most including resting and driving, but in two days Sam was going to see Ruby. He would have to cancel, as regrettable as it was. People were dying and that was simply more important than anything.

“Alright. We’ll leave as soon as possible.” Sam said. He stood up from the table to go upstairs and get his things. Adam has significantly improved, and a vengeful spirit shouldn’t be too hard to take out.

Sam packed his clothes back in the duffle, being careful not to forget the box of letters. Aside from the one he read every night before he went to sleep, there was one he read over and over, almost all the time, and he read it twice already that day.

He pulled it out again while waiting for Adam to get in the Impala.

 

_Read this when you miss me_

_Hi Sammy._

_You’re taking a nap right now. I don’t know how you can sleep. We just had a crazy Bon Jovi sing a long – that’s one way to go out, right?_

_We’re almost to where Lilith is holed up. I can’t believe this is happening, Sam._

_I’m gonna die._

_But don’t you fucking worry, I’ll crawl out of hell, and I will skin every demon on earth including Lilith. Hell, I’ll raise Meg and skin her, too. I’m gonna come back Sammy. I promise you._

_Despite every argument, every fucking issue we’ve had with each other, you’re my baby brother and there’s nothing in the entire world that’s gonna change that. You’re the strongest dude I know._

_I don’t say this often, to anyone, but I love you Sam. In case I don’t get to tell ya later._

_If you’re lookin’ at the ground, I’m gonna be lookin’ up to you, Sammy. You said I was your hero?? I’m a fuckin basketcase, dude._

_You are my hero._

_Goodnight Sam._

_Dean_

 

The drive to Utah only took thirteen hours, considering Sam was speeding most of the way on one straight freeway. He wanted to get this hunt done as soon as he could so he could get back to Ruby. He knew he couldn’t stay at Bobby’s forever, either, and would eventually have to shack up in a motel for a while until Ruby knew she was completely safe outside of that house.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he missed her. He really thought he would never see her again after the showdown with Lilith, but he’s now more than glad he did. She’s going to help him save Dean, however twisted the method might seem. He was going to get his big brother out of Hell.

Once Adam and Sam finally reached a cheap motel in Salt Lake City, they got to work almost immediately. It was only six in the evening, so they would leave to burn the bones as soon as they could. Someone has died already and Sam was  _not_ going to let that happen again. He hacked into the local county death records and had Adam search for people who have died bloody in that house and where they were buried. Hopefully, they weren’t cremated or something. That would be ridiculously annoying.

Adam was obviously far too young to pass as FBI or even a journalist, so they had to do this the illegal way. Then again, almost everything hunters do is pretty illegal even if it’s for the greater good. If Sam and Adam  _were_ going to hunt together for a while, it would be a pretty long time until he could go with Sam to interview victims and witnesses.

When Adam proclaimed he found something and then commented on how "cool" it was to break the law, Sam just laughed and threw his hoodie on. “Get used to it, kid.”

 

They drove to the cemetery the guy was buried in. He was a man from the early 1900s who killed his whole family and every other spring would take another family that lived in the house for God knows what reason. The job was messy as usual and Adam was significantly creeped out by digging up a body, but it took only fifteen minutes. “Wow, it’s much easier doing this with somebody else. Doing it alone sucks.” Sam said as he and Adam dug.

“Wait, you’re telling me this is totally  _normal_ for you?” Adam replied and wiped sweat from his forehead. Sam laughed and it felt good to do so.

“Yeah. Pretty much.” He hit something with his shovel and together they pushed dirt aside and smashed into the casket, breaking it open to see the gross bones of the old guy. “Jackpot.”

 

The brothers climbed out of the grave and looked around. Luckily there was nobody near them for a couple of miles and they poured salt and gasoline on the skeleton. Sam was about to strike a match when Adam stopped him.

“Can I do it?”

“You want to?” Sam said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Yeah, it’s my first hunt. Symbolic, I guess. Plus I wanna see this creepy son of a bitch burn.” Sam swallowed and handed Adam the book of matches. He lit it and held it up to him and he could _swear_ he saw Dean in him.

It hurt so damn much.

His younger brother threw the match in the grave and the skeleton was engulfed in flames. Thankfully it was too dark for Adam to see the tears in his eyes.

 

 

Once they arrived back at the motel, Adam climbed into his bed and sighed heavily, laughing.

“Dude, Sam. That was insane. We just  _saved_ people.” Sam smiled and pulled out his laptop, opening solitaire. “So you and… and Dean, you started doing this when you were kids?”

“Yeah. Our mom died when I was a baby because of this demon, and Dad took me and Dean on this crazy crusade to find the damn thing.”

“Did he ever find it?”

“We all did, yeah. Dean killed it.” Sam scoffed and smiled a half smile proudly.

“I wish I could have met him.” Adam said quietly. Dean’s reaction to Adam probably would have been much different than Sam’s. For example, less talking, more punching, maybe. He would have definitely got super protective immediately, though, just like he was with Sam.

Was.

“He would have liked you. You guys are really similar, for never having met.” The older Winchester saw the date on his laptop.

_12:16 AM_

_06/26/08_

"Hey, it's Derek Jeter's birthday today." Sam said.

"Yeah, you're right, it is," Adam replied. Sam tilted his head, confused. "What, you think I don't like baseball? I've been to two Yankees games in my whole life. I, uh, this is kinda lame, but I actually went out of my way to pack my Jeter-signed baseball when I came to find you." Sam laughed.

"No kidding!"

"I was thirteen, man. It was the best day of my life."

"Dean was a huge baseball fan. Dad took us to a White Sox game once, actually said it was the best hundred bucks he ever spent."

The brothers chatted more about sports until they both got too tired to continue. Sam pulled out the box and read the  _when you miss me_ letter with the light of his phone, as well as the  _before you go to sleep every night_ one. It comforted him enough that he fell asleep with the letters on his nightstand instead of tucked inside their proper envelopes.

When he woke up, there was no blood or tears or sweat. He went to sleep happy and slept through the night, finally. In honor of Dean, before Adam and Sam checked out, they rented  _The Sandlot_. They both didn't say it, but they knew he would enjoy himself if he were there.

On the walk home from the Blockbuster, Sam looked at the ground and knew he was looking up.

“Gonna get you out, Dean,” Sam muttered to the cracked sidewalk. “Promise.”


	8. Force

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters including this one have been edited since first posting. I couldn't handle all the errors in the timeline so I religiously edited the chapters I've posted.

Sam and Adam returned to Bobby’s on the 27th. Adam wanted Sam to drive slower so he could see more of the states or something, but he refused gently. He needed to get back to Sioux Falls and see Ruby. His withdrawals were getting bad, and he often thought about how bad they would get the more he took in. Maybe he would ask Ruby for a to-go stash.

Sam would have to leave Bobby’s eventually. He didn’t want to. It was rent free and a friendly environment, but he couldn’t stumble in the old house at three in the morning, high on demon blood, and reeking of sex. He could, but it wouldn’t blow over well. Adam asks too many questions. After he frees Dean, he’ll convince him to let Adam hunt with them, but until then, Bobby would just have to continue the kid’s training himself.

They pulled in at around eight at night and both grinned happily at the smell of pizza and pie. The dim light of the ancient television could be seen through the window – Bobby was totally chowing down and watching a soap opera, he bet. Sam gave the old man the benefit of the doubt and called him on the phone from outside, saying they were five minutes from the house, and hung up with a laugh.

That’ll give the guy a bit of time to put his hat on and whip out a bottle of whiskey and his guns.

Adam and Sam walked in and sure enough, Bobby was cleaning his rifle. The pizza and the pie were still out, so the brothers dug in.

 

“How was the hunt?” Bobby asked.

“It was _awesome_. I dug up a grave, dude,” Adam replied way too cheerily.

“Never seen anyone that excited about diggin’ up a stiff.” Bobby laughed gruffly and handed Sam and Adam a beer. He looked at him with a questioning glance and Bobby smiled.

“You’re a Winchester, now. Almost seventeen, right?” Adam nodded. “Old enough to have a beer with your family, and yes, you’re  _family_ .” Adam all but glowed at that and twisted the cap off the bottle and took a swig, making a grimace.

Sam guessed he’s never had a beer before.

 

After an hour, Bobby and Adam turned in upstairs, the youngest Winchester hilariously drunk as hell, and the older but not oldest staying downstairs to do research and read. At least, that’s what he was doing as far as they knew.

He waited a half an hour to leave and drove Dean’s car all the way to the abandoned house. Walking in carefully, Ruby was on a torn up couch watching a TV probably older than him and eating French fries from a large bowl.

“What is wrong with you?” Sam asked with a laugh as he shut the door. “How did you get those? I put traps  _everywhere_ , Ruby.”

“I had them delivered and the guy tossed them to me over the trap, jackass.”

“Well, how did you explain all the traps?”

“Told him I was performing a Satanic ritual and neededthe fries to stimulate me. It freaked him out enough to make him toss ‘em.” Sam laughed, making Ruby laugh.

She was so human it almost hurt.

She wasn’t even really possessing anybody. Instead of taking over a prom queen with family, friends, and a star athlete boyfriend to miss her, she took a coma patient whose soul has long since retired.

Sam leaned against the wall of the broken down house and held his hands out.

“So?”

“So? So _what_?”

“You said we were gonna do an exorcism. Do you have a demon for me?”

“Geeze, Sam. I thought I was the only demon for you.” Ruby stood up and waltzed over to Sam, kissing his chin.

“Don’t remind me.” Sam replied, swallowing. Now wasn’t the time. He was hungry.

 

Within a minute, Ruby was under him on the ripped up couch and he drank from her once again.

 

 

Sam and Ruby drove in the Impala fifteen minutes out to a really run down looking warehouse and he groaned. “What’s with you and creepy, abandoned buildings?”

Ruby didn’t reply, instead just munched on French fries. They walked into the warehouse and a demon possessing some poor bastard was tied to a chair with a devil’s trap around him. “How did you do this?” Sam asked.

“I didn’t. I told you, I have a delivery guy.” The demon had a washcloth shoved in his mouth and grimaced at Sam and Ruby as Sam ripped the cloth out.

“How long has he been possessed?” He asked her.

“A couple weeks. The delivery guy I told you about has been feeding him so the guy trapped in there doesn’t starve.”

Sam was impressed, turned on, infatuated, and  _high_ . “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Ruby walked around the area as Sam took deep breaths, preparing himself. She instructed him with her words, telling him to  _feel_ the power rushing through his veins, his head, going straight to his heart and pumped out again. She told him to pull the demon straight from its meat suit and send the son of a bitch back to hell. Sam held his palm out and the demon started choking and a few puffs of smoke flew out. He tilted his head and Ruby yelled for him to concentrate.

More smoke pillowed out of the demon’s mouth, its eyes flashing black and its veins popping from its forehead. The floor around the chair looked like a dark black cloud of smoke and Sam felt blood trickling from his nose; his ears pounded from Ruby screaming to finish it, and the demon’s head snapped up making direct eye contact with Sam.

 

“I’ll tell your brother ‘ _hi’_ when I see him.”

And then it was gone, the smoke sinking into the floor.

Sam’s legs gave out and he sat kneeled on the cold concrete until he could process Ruby telling him to break the trap so she could get to the victim. He crawled over to the trap, scraping the paint off with his knife. He collapsed as Ruby went to the man, shaking him gently awake. He came to a few minutes later muttering his thanks, and Ruby tried to help Sam get up.

 

“Sam. Sam, come on, get up, Sammy.”

“I – Dean?”

Sam heard Ruby’s voice break. “N-no. Just me, just Ruby. We gotta get this guy to the hospital, Sam. _SAM!_ ”

 

Forcing himself up, he reminded himself he wasn’t injured, he was just high, and coming down dreadfully quickly. He couldn’t stop thinking about what the demon said and mixing it with what Ruby told him about Dean being tortured over and over again; this demon would probably go to Dean and torture him _himself_. Sam would have thrown up right there if he didn’t have to help this man to the Impala. He loaded him in the backseat where Ruby stayed to make sure he stayed conscious, asking him if he knew what happened. Sam saw in the rear view mirror he just kept shaking his head, and Ruby told him he was drugged and they found him.

Once they arrived at the hospital, nurses reached him and took him away as two sheriffs interviewed Sam and Ruby.

“We were just takin’ a drive and we saw this warehouse and decided to check it out, ‘cause it was creepy, y’know? And – we see this… this  _man_ tied to a chair with a weird Satanic pentagram and this  _freak_ about to cut him with a knife and we brought him here right away.” Ruby was crying, and Sam was ridiculously impressed with how good of a liar she was.

One of the cops asked Sam where he got the bloody nose and he said he tried to get the guy but he got punched, and he ran. The doctor said it wasn’t broken and that the guy was going to be fine. They left the hospital soon after, and Sam drove back to Bobby’s house.

 

“Wait in the car.”

“Why?” Ruby replied irritatingly.

“Because it’s gonna be just a little weird for Bobby to see the same demon he was about to exorcise with the person who supposedly buried the body.” Sam snapped back. “We’ll stop at a McDonald’s when we leave, and you can have all the fucking fries you want, okay?” Ruby grinned and nodded. Sam was proud of not hurting the victim too bad, but he still had to work on it if he was going to get Dean out of hell.

Which he was going to do. Absolutely.

Sam packed his things and left a note on the table, saying he’s still grieving over Dean and needs time to himself. It wasn’t a lie. He just… omitted a few details. He stopped and read the letter he read five or six times a day, when he  _really_ missed Dean, and tugged another one out. A dated one.

The letter he hesitated to read from November of 2003 when he was at Stanford was sitting right in the palm of his hands, and he had some time to read it. So he opened it.

 

_November 28, 2003_

_Hi Sam. You’ve been gone for two months already. Sorry if the writing is so sloppy or smeared or whatever. (I’m not crying, ~~you dick~~ , I spilled something.) If you could see where I crossed out, sorry for calling you a dick. Actually, I’m not sorry. You fucked up, man. I can’t stop thinking about the fight you and Dad had, it fucking keeps me up at night knowing you’re by yourself, unprotected, at some goddamn prestige ass university in California. Do you have guns, Sam? Knives? Do you tell your roommate you have to salt the doors and windows before you go to bed or whenever you leave? How do you sleep at night knowing ~~I’m not there~~ **Dad and I** aren’t there to protect you?? I miss you so much Sam. Dad doesn’t even talk about you. I try to get him to talk about it, but he just won’t. Won’t let me see you, either. I’m 24 and the man treats me like I’m a kid still. I wanna see you so bad Sammy, wanna drag your ass back to us so we can be a family again. I hope you’ll come back soon. Hunting is in our blood, we were raised for it, dammit! You can’t just run away from us! I know Dad told you not to come back but he didn’t mean that. No way he meant that. He loves you, Sam, he loves you so much. You’re his little boy, you know? He wants you to hunt with us but he always treated me like a goddamn drill sergeant and you – he treated you like this precious, fragile thing that always needed protecting, and for once you should have just listened to him, Sammy! I know ~~we don’t~~ Dad doesn’t really do Christmas but you should come back for Christmas. Maybe bring a girl and we could eat TV dinner and talk about nothing. _

_Hope to see ya soon, Sam_

_DW_


	9. Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters including this one have been edited since first posting. I couldn't handle all the errors in the timeline so I religiously edited the chapters I've posted.

“Am I doing something wrong?” Sam would ask tentatively. He always felt like he was doing something wrong. It ate at him in the pit of his stomach like a hungry animal and he wouldn’t understand why for years and years to come. Little things such as cleaning a rifle or making his brother’s favorite sandwich always felt wrong. He had repeated things like this on many occasions, over and over – he couldn’t help but have the itch he was wrong.

“You’re doing fine, Sam. Don’t worry.”

“When do we get to leave?”

“Soon. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Dean’s voice always made him feel right.

Dean’s lips when he spoke, his eyes when he smiled, everything – even in this memory of aiming a shotgun at a target fifty feet away,  _was it a memory? a dream? was this real?_ his older brother’s voice always made him feel right. Like he belonged.

Snapping to consciousness, Sam stared at the roof of the Impala’s interior, sighing heavily. He was dreaming about Dean. Then again, when wasn't he? Most of the time, he didn't mind unless they mutate into awful nightmares like before. This was getting out of hand. It’s been four days since his first exorcism and he’s completed two others since, in which both victims survived. They would most likely be in therapy for the next five years, but they were alive, and that was the single most important thing to him. Aside from killing Lilith and saving Dean, that is. 

God, how he wanted to hear every bone in her body crack, wanted to see the smoke popping out of her veins and flowing from her mouth. He craved to see her choke on every deal diminished by her death, including his big brother’s.

Sam had the utmost desire to rid the planet and Hell of Lilith forever.

 

On another note, Adam has been calling often, trying to convince Sam to go back to Bobby’s in heartfelt voicemails, but Sam never called back or answered. He felt bad lying to them. As far as they knew he was simply taking time by himself to mourn his dead brother. To reassure them as well as himself, he would send a text every morning and night to each of them with one word:  _Alive._

No demon yet, other than the first one, has said anything about Dean. Maybe they knew. Maybe they knew Sam would go to the extreme to defend his brother’s honor – and if the extreme was sleeping with a demon and drinking her blood like water, then so be it. None of the demons have brought up anything about him and Ruby, either. They did their best to hide it, in fear one of them would find Dean in Hell and tell him everything. It was terrifying how likely that was.

Even though he was gaining experience with how to handle the exorcisms, Ruby never ceased to tell him how much more practice and skill he needed if he wanted to get Dean out. It was annoying at times but encouraging. Ruby was keeping him sane and stable. She either went out and got him food and water or ordered something for him regularly to keep him well fed. She was doing good by him and that meant so much more now than it ever had before.

It was safe to say – if he wasn’t maddeningly in love with Dean – he could actually fall for Ruby. Even then.

 

Sam’s phone buzzed and he answered groggily without looking at the caller ID, hoping it wasn’t Bobby or Adam. Luckily, it was just Ruby and she said “Morning,” rather too loudly. “Are you in that damn car? You know you paid for a room teen feet away from you, right?” Ruby was being playful and Sam knew that. She understood he missed Dean. The beautiful car, rebuilt from the ground up, still smelled like him – leather, gun powder, and cheap cologne. Sam made sure he sprayed it every day and bought a new bottle every time he ran out. He sat up in the backseat and got out of the car, shivering, groaning and stretching.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. S-sorry.”

“Don’t be. Get in here, would’ya?”

Ruby hung up and Sam opened the trunk, putting on a clean t-shirt and flannel. They were in the middle of Iowa, and it was ridiculously humid. He walked into the motel room and went over the game plan with Ruby for that day.

Find two demons in Ankeny, make them talk about where bigger clusters of demons are, send them back to Hell.  Practice makes perfect.

It all seemed so simple at the time.

 

 

Drunk with Ruby’s blood rushing through his veins, they made their way towards a small antique shop in downtown Ankeny. Ruby said she had a source to figure out where demons were, and how the source was similar to the delivery guy in South Dakota – a demon working on her side.

“You’re positive this is the place?”

“I’m sure. Trust me.”

So he did, and they walked in, and a teenage girl about fifteen stood with a middle aged man behind a counter. The pair looked up as the bell above the door jingled, and Ruby tilted her head, holding her hand out as she muttered something in Latin.

“ _Ostende te._ ”

_Reveal yourself_ . The girl and the man behind the counter made a choked sob sort of sound, their eyes flashing black, and Ruby told Sam to rush them into the back room since they were temporarily weakened. A devil’s trap was waiting on the floor as he shoved them into it, gasping for air. It happened so fast. Ruby pulled the curtains down over the windows in the front and flipped the  _Open_ sign to  _Closed_ . She came back and shut the door behind her, leaning against it.

“ _You_.” The man spit. Sam wasn’t sure if it was aimed towards Ruby or towards him. He _does_ have that stupid Winchester legacy to carry on, but Ruby _is_ one out of very few rebelling against her entire race.

It was a close tie.

 

Sam turned his head, facing Ruby. “How did you do that? Get them to manifest?”

“It’s a trick I learned when I was a witch. Came in handy.” She smiled and Sam bit his tongue.

“This won’t hurt them, right?”

“No, Sam. It didn’t hurt the others. You can do it, don’t worry.” He felt a pang of remembrance and familiarity in that, thinking about the dream he had. Dean wouldn’t want him to worry, he would want him to keep going and fight tooth and nail – Sam hoped when he did rescue Dean, he wouldn’t be mad about the means.

At first, Sam wouldn’t know what to do. He would be overwhelmed and upset, sure, but his brother would be there in the flesh. Although, he knew exactly what to do if Dean were mad. He did it every time Dean was angry with him – he stuck around and dealt considering he was too in love with him to leave.

Right now, though, he needed to stop thinking about Dean for once and focus on this, the double exorcism. He squeezed his eyes shut and ignored the world outside of the room he was standing in. He held his hand out, clenching his fist. The demons began choking, smoke puffing out from their mouths and nostrils.

 

“Where is the nearest cluster of demons?” Sam asked shakily.

“Cluster? What do you mean _cluster?_ We’re everywhere!” The man groaned.

“I mean it! Clusters, groups, packs – whatever you call yourselves. Where are the nearest ones?!”

“Why do you want to know? So you could just line us up and exorcise all of us? It’s no use, Sam, there’s too many of us.” The man’s voice was really starting to piss Sam off.

“Fuck. Shut up.” Sam twisted his hand sideways, bringing the man to the floor and causing half of the essence of the demon to leave him. Smiling, he held him there as the smoke pillowed out. He could hear the poor bastard’s heartbeat, and he could tell he was alive and scared – same with the girl.

The demon possessing the man couldn’t speak anymore, and Sam looked at the girl. “Are you gonna tell me where your pals are, sweetheart?” Silence. He squeezed his fist tighter and she spilled out a screaming growl. “ _Are_ you?!”

“Yes! Yes! Fine. F-fine. I’ll t-tell you. But you have to let me go.”

“No way in hell. The girl you’re taking over is completely innocent.”

“I could do what your friend over there is doing. Take over a soulless body, maybe not even in America. Keep to myself.” Sam considered it.

“What gives you the right? Why shouldn’t I just send you back to hell?”

“I’ve never killed anyone. Not ever. The only injuries I’ve been any reason responsible for is a hunter injuring a guy I was possessing. Broke his leg.”

It sucked it was a teenage girl the demon was possessing, because it was convincing as fuck. Sam felt Ruby’s hand on the small of his back, whispering to him the demon was telling the truth. She could see its true face and would know if it were lying. Sam nodded.

“Okay. You tell me, and you get as far away from all of this as possible. Deal?” Sam growled.

“D-deal.”

 

So she told him and Ruby everything she knew and it turns out the nearest group of demons was a pack of fourteen in South Florida, and he made a mental note to research for omens and disappearances. Sam narrowed his eyes, sucking the abomination from the man on the ground. He started muttering and Sam exchanged a look with the demon in the trap before he scraped the paint off, breaking the line.

The demon fled, leaving the man and teenager on the floor next to each other. They were conscious, just extremely confused, and Ruby and Sam helped them to the hospital. As they were walking back to the antique shop to get the Impala, Ruby said something significantly important.

“I’m _so_ proud of you.”

It echoed in Sam’s brain, and he made an impulsive choice to take her hand and pull her closer. He already lost Dean. He couldn’t lose her, too.

 

 

Sam and Ruby made love that night, and the night after that, and the night after that.

There were no demands, no drinking, and no cutting. They stayed in the motel room for the whole 48 hours.

It was nice.

 

When Sam woke up on the 4th of July, he noticed Ruby was asleep. He never knew demons could will themselves into sleep, but apparently they can. Sam was curious if Dean ever wrote a letter for this date. After all, the holiday was extremely important to the both of them. He combed through the dated letters, and there wasn't one, but there was one in the  _Read this_ pile.

 

_Read this on 4th of July_

_Hey Sam! It's the fourth of July. It's 2006._

_It's only, like, ten AM, and you're still asleep. How am I awake before you? Jesus. Anyways, ten years ago was the best day of my entire existence. I'm gonna remember that night for the rest of my life, Sam. I swear it. The night we burned down that field with those fireworks we used half our savings for. Maybe more, who knows_

_Holy shit, the happiness I saw in you that night must have gone into me too, because it was so surreal, kid_

_Every year since then we haven't really done anything too crazy, but this year I'm gonna make it so we do. I know the past few months have been more than a little rough, but we'll get through it Sammy. Together._

_Nothin' a ~~little~~ a lot of beer, indiana jones movies, and fireworks can't fix_

_i don't tell you this often, but you are seriously the BEST brother a guy could ask for_

_happy independence day, kiddo_

_\- dean_

_p.s. i swear to GOD if you correct me on the semantics of when america was actually declared independent i will shoot you in the leg_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, demons don't sleep. They don't need to. I know this. I just thought it would be nice to allow Ruby and Sam to fall asleep with each other instead of Sam sleeping in the Impala while Ruby is going over things in the motel room. If the Latin is inaccurate, I apologize, I went to Google Translate.


	10. Hard as Nails

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters including this one have been edited since first posting. I couldn't handle all the errors in the timeline so I religiously edited the chapters I've posted.

It was a long drive to Southern Florida.

Ruby made jokes about buying bikinis and tanning even though demons couldn’t tan naturally, especially not in the body she was in. Sam felt at peace for the first time in weeks. Although, he constantly thought about what Dean would say if he knew about this. He didn’t like Ruby to begin with, and when Sam finally convinced him she wasn’t all bad, Dean simply tolerated her.  He really wished his brother will understand when he learns it was Ruby who helped him bring him back.

When Sam and Ruby made it to West Palm Beach, they checked into a Motel 6. As Ruby kept herself busy pinning their research up to the wall, Sam pulled out the letter.  _Read this when you miss me_ . Sam doesn’t go a day without reading it. He read it eight times before Ruby finished.

“Alright, Sam, West Palm Beach has the most demonic omens in the southeast, so let’s get crackin’. We gotta get intel on Dean and on Hell. Someone in this pack has to have been downstairs more recently than I was.” Sam shoved the letter back into his pocket and sat up straighter.

“More recently? You were just there a month ago.” Ruby scoffed.

“Time works differently in Hell, Sam. You know that. It’s been a year, I think.”

Sam inhaled sharply and pursed his lips. He got up quickly and started unpacking his duffle bag, trying not to think about what the demons could possibly be doing to Dean down there. It hurt not being able to do anything about it, but soon. Soon he will get his brother back.

 

He turned around to face Ruby and sighed. “Do you have an exact location of where they’re staying?”

“Yeah, I do. I can feel them. There are twenty at most.”

“Jesus,” Sam ran his hands through his hair and paced around the small motel room. “I don’t know if I can hold off that many while we interrogate them.”

“We’re not gonna interrogate all of ‘em, Sam. We’re gonna walk in there demanding to see their leader, or leaders. They’ll be so scared of you, Sam. They _know_ what you can do now.”

 

Sam sighed again. What if he doesn’t have the power?

“Okay. Well, if I’m going to burst in there and play like I have the power, I might as well actually have it. I need more.”

“You can have as much as you want. You know that,” Sam grabbed Ruby by the waist and pressed her down on the bed behind him, looking at her fondly. Hungrily. “Just don’t bleed me dry, kid.”

Sam didn’t respond, instead pulled his butterfly knife from his pocket and cut into Ruby’s arm. He pressed his mouth down and drank up the warm, bitter liquid. It was beginning to feel less awful, both ethically and physically. It actually started to taste better and he didn’t mind he was drinking demon blood. He knew he would do whatever it took to save Dean, and that’s precisely what he’s been doing practically all his life.

At least now he’s really enjoying it.

 

 

Ruby and Sam left the motel to head to an old, long since abandoned barn and didn’t bother sneaking in. Sam felt high off of the blood. He _was_ high. There was so much power flooding through his veins, pumping from his heart – it’s the most powerful he has _ever_ felt.

Ruby flung open the gigantic wooden doors and every demon in the room turned their attention to the two of them.

“Ruby,” A demon possessing a thirty-odd year old woman spit out. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” Ruby smiled and huffed.

“Oh, honey, it’s not me you should be worrying about.”

“What? You’re telling us we should be afraid of the same guy who was begging to trade places with his brother not a few weeks ago?” A teenage boy snarled from the other side of the room.

“That’s exactly what she’s saying,” Sam growled. He inhaled deeply and held one hand out. All of the demons in the room, besides Ruby, started to scream and writhe in pain. A few tried to escape, but Sam was holding them all inside of their vessels. They aren’t leaving unless Sam says it’s okay. “I’d listen to her if I were you.”

 

A middle-aged man started bellowing a yell. “What do you _want_?!” Various demons began murmuring and a few yelled for him to shut up. “Just tell us what you want with us.”

“I want to talk to whoever’s in charge. Don’t ask why because I won’t tell you.” Sam squinted at the demons, who remained silent. “Oh… so no one’s gonna talk, huh? I thought we would be able to do this the easy way. Guess not.” At that, Sam squeezed his hand into a fist and the demons started to scream in pain again. Sam laughed.

“Okay!” A small voice from the back piped up. “Stop!” Sam dropped his fist but continued holding the demons, just in case.

“Who are you? Show yourself!” Sam’s voice echoed in the large barn.

 

A young girl of about nine, with jet black hair matching her eyes, stepped out from behind two taller, stronger looking men. Sam tilted his head and looked to Ruby confusedly.

“Don’t let looks fool ya, kid. Remember Lilith?” Ruby muttered to him.

“Yeah. I remember her. That’s the whole reason we’re here,” Sam whispered back. “Right. So you’re the leader of this group?”

“Yes, and many others,” The little girl walked towards Sam gradually. “My name is Livia. I know what you’re capable of, Sam. I know what you have lost. We have all lost something.”

“Oh yeah? What could a demon possibly lose?” Sam argued.

“Family.” Livia answered back almost immediately.

 

The girl was extremely small right in front of Sam, which made him think about Lilith again. All that power in a tiny, helpless vessel. This demon could be ridiculously powerful.

“I am older than your friend Ruby here. I am older than most demigods and the other monsters you face. However, I am not as old as the likes of Azazel or Lilith, but I’m close. Lilith is the one you seek, correct?” Sam nodded as he watched the girl pace in front of him. “Ah. She is powerful. You don’t want to get into trouble with her.”

“Yeah? Well I already have. She killed my brother. I want him back. You’re gonna tell me how to do that, or I’m gonna kill all of your precious little soldiers while you watch. And then? Then I’m gonna kill _you_. Slowly. Cell by cell.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ruby smiling proudly.

She’s proud of him, and he’s going to prove she has something to be proud of.

 

Livia began laughing and Sam’s hand twitched. “Is something funny?”

“Oh, nothing, just _you_ , thinking you could kill _me._ ” Livia responded innocently. “I’m not as old as Lilith, but I’m just as powerful, you stupid, ignorant animal!” Livia raised her hands out and suddenly all of the demons began leaving their vessels, and Sam felt powerless. No. _No_. “They’re off to find new meatsuits, far away from here. You’ll be sorry you crossed me, Sam Winchester.” The demon stepped closer to him and Ruby charged, but it was pointless. Livia barely waved her hand and Ruby was thrown on the nearest wall.

 

Sam tried, he pushed himself _so_ hard, but he couldn’t bring the strength back.

“What’s the matter, Sammy? Lost your juice? You’re  _weak_ . You’re spineless and you’re broken. That bitch Ruby will never do anything to help you. You think the blood makes it all better? You’re an addict on a road you can’t begin to comprehend.  _You will never get your brother back_ .”

 

Sam opened his mouth to speak, to argue, to scream, but nothing came out. Before he knew it, Livia was gone. She disappeared. Ruby had blood dripping from her mouth. She spit it out and got up grumbling. “Come on, Sam. We better go. If she really is about as old as the big baddies, there might be some lore on her. Livia is extremely powerful. We have to be wary and work extra hard.”

“Trust me,” Sam inhaled and grimaced. “I know.”

 

 

Ruby stayed up late doing research while Sam tried to sleep. He couldn’t, so he grabbed the box of letters from his bag and started fishing through the dated ones. Thankfully, Ruby never asked about the letters. She respected that was something he needed to keep for himself.

 

Sam found a letter from July 10th, 2007 - only a year and a day ago - and opened it curiously, leaning back on his pillow.

 

_Hey, Sam._

_It’s so fuckin hot out right now. We’re in Arizona. Why the hell are we in Arizona when we can be in California or Florida or anywhere but friggen Arizona?!_

_Anyway, you’re in the shower right now and I’m watching some weird show on cable. One of those procedural hospital shows like Grey’s Anatomy or somethin’._

_The main dude is named Dr Sexy. What the fuck? ~~He isn’t that great looking.~~_

_He’s pretty great looking. Damn, Sammy, maybe your hair will get to be that luxurious one day. Alright, I’m just – I’ve exceeded my boundaries here. This show is getting interesting._

_Later, kid_

_Dean_

_PS when I die you better buy all the seasons on dvd just in case I bust out_


	11. Pure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, has it been a long time. Sorry this is so late, I was gonna give up, but recently my friend Jackie began reading it and it motivated me to keep going.
> 
> ATTENTION: IF YOU'RE NOT NEW TO THIS WORK, AND HAVE BEEN READING IT, ///PLEASE/// GO BACK AND RE-READ IT. 
> 
> I've made crucial changes to the timeline, changed the letters and other important things. I know it sounds like a pain in the ass but it really will make a hell of a lot more sense if you go back and re-read the whole thing from the beginning. Trust me.  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's finally starting to go the direction I've been aiming for. Leave feedback about the work if you want to further motivate me to keep writing! Thanks if you've been sticking around for the past few months!!!! I promise I'll update quicker.

Sam was shaken awake by Ruby just as the sun started to come up. It shone through the drapes onto his face, and Ruby’s firm hands tried to get him out of bed.

“Wh- what’s going on?” Sam asked, voice thick and throat sore.

“I wanna get out of Florida.” Ruby answered matter-of-factly.

Sam sat up against the headboard and rubbed his eyes. Ruby was blurry, and when she finally came into focus, he realized she was wearing a hat. His hat. He only bought it a few days ago on a whim for cold nights in the Impala.

“Is that my beanie?”

“Yes.”

“Why is all of your hair under it?”

“Turns out… this girl I’m possessing? Her hair apparently gets really frizzy in humidity.” Ruby spoke slowly, as if she were embarrassed. Sam chuckled.

“You have to let me see.”

“Never in a million years, Sam.” Ruby got up from the bed but Sam grabbed her hand, tugged her back over him. He gently pulled the beanie off and grinned obscenely at the curliness of the hair. He laughed and Ruby struggled to put the beanie back on, but he just wouldn’t have it.

Sam kissed her, and it felt pure, as if this is where he was supposed to be.

 

 

Fifteen hours after they left West Palm Beach, they stopped in Hot Springs, Arkansas. It was a city surrounded by mountains, and during the summer, it was greener than Dean’s eyes.

Rather than checking into a motel, Sam suggested Edgewater Resort – a beautiful area on Lake Hamilton with cabins. It was cheaper to rent a month there than a month at some of the motels they’ve seen, and it would give Sam peace of mind to be somewhere other than a grimy motel. Ruby argued it didn’t make a difference, but when they got to the cabin, she changed her mind.

After setting up their information wall and ordering takeout, they each did more research.

Back in Florida, Livia claimed she was older than Ruby yet not as old as Azazel. Doing the math, Sam figured she must have been created somewhere around the 1100s. She’s extremely powerful, cunning, and intelligent. He went to great lengths to prepare for the showdown at the barn but was overpowered by someone he didn’t even know was going to be there. Ruby told him she felt the presence of the lower level demons – if Livia really were _that_ well-known, wouldn’t Ruby have felt _her_ presence, too?

Sam ignored his own question. He can’t start doubting now. Not when he’s close to finding out how to rescue Dean.

 

Ruby spoke up. “Hey, I found something,” Sam lifted his head as Ruby spun her laptop around to face him. “It’s a report by an Italian priest in 1973. He performed an unsuccessful exorcism on a Dante Fiorello. He was apparently foaming at the mouth, screaming curses at God and the people of the church, and witnesses including the priest said his eyes were black.”

“So, why was it unsuccessful? Fiorello not make it?” Sam asked.

“See, that’s the weird thing,” Ruby pointed at a photo Sam enlarged of Dante’s palm. There was a name carved into it. “The priest performed the exorcism, but it didn’t work. It actually rejected. He says in the report ‘the demon might as well have bounced the exorcism off of itself’, and five minutes later, it smoked out willingly after a laughing fit.”

The name carved into the man’s hand was clearly  _Livia_ .

“Is this guy still alive?” Ruby nodded. Sam stood up from his chair, running a hand through his hair. “I mean – this guy may be our way of figuring her out.”

“He lives in Italy. He’s a retired contractor, and his son owns the business now. He has a Skype address on the company’s website.”

Sam watched as Ruby opened the program and put the call out. He sat next to her, working himself into the frame. It took three times, but the son, Enzo, finally answered. He cleared his throat and put on an obviously fake smile. He muttered something that sounded like, “I’ve really got to take my Skype address off of my website.”

 

“Are you Enzo Fiorello?” Ruby asked.

“Who’s asking?”

“We need to talk to you about your father,” Sam said bluntly. “Or, to your father, rather.”

“Are you reporters? My father won’t talk to any of you.” Enzo argued. Ruby interjected as Sam began to open his mouth.

“Listen, we saw the report that was made about your dad’s exorcism. Assume we know everything. We’re people who can put the bitch who possessed your father back where she belongs.”

Sam confusedly glared at Ruby and turned back to the camera. “She’s right. We can give your father peace of mind. We just need to talk to him. Is he there with you?” Enzo frowned, glanced behind him, and nodded. “Please.”

Enzo called for Dante, and the elder man sat next to him on the couch. He explained to him in Italian what was happening and when he tried to get up, Enzo insisted.

“He speaks little English. I will translate for you.” Sam discreetly turned on a recorder just in case Enzo told them something different than what his father was saying to protect him. He’s seen it before. Enzo’s father started speaking and Ruby and Sam paid attention as he translated.

 

“It was September of 1973 when it entered me. I remember because the leaves were changing when I went under. When I woke up, it was cold. I smelled turkey. Thanksgiving. I could barely see anything, but I heard somebody else’s voice – I could never figure out who. There was a heavy smell of different meats, and I heard animals. The other voice, it… it was talking to me, but not to _me,_ to the thing inside me. It was talking to the person using _my_ voice. They spoke of plans for decades in advance, and the one inside me said in ten years’ time, a special boy would be born who would, who would _save us all_. That was the last time I was conscious before the thing made me go rabid, hurting people, cursing the church… before it left me. It was snowing. December. But- but before it shut me out again, I heard two names. Two names that kept me fighting. The first was Livia… the person she spoke to called it that… during my exorcism, I managed to take control of my arms and used a broken bit of glass to carve the name in my hand, so I would never forget it. The second, I remember reading in Leviticus. Livia said, ‘He has chosen a boy. Azazel has chosen the King we will come to worship.’ I thought it was absurd. It went dark immediately after that.”

Sam visibly shivered. He stood up and rushed to the bathroom, throwing up. Azazel. He chose him to be his Boy King, but ten years in advance? How? How could he have known? Was it always his destiny to be unclean? He overheard Ruby speaking to Enzo.

“Enzo, tell your father he can at least know one thing for now. That guy hurling his guts out in the bathroom and his brother killed the demon Azazel. My friend here is ‘the Chosen One’, or whatever, but he rejected the title. He’s doing everything he can to destroy that legacy, and Livia is next, I promise you.”

Sam washed his mouth out and brushed his teeth as Ruby disconnected the call, hoping this really would be over soon.

 

 

“Don’t you realize this is the right thing to do?!” Ruby yells at Sam.

“You’ve been saying that a lot lately, you know. Let you go to Hell to see my brother. Work with you. Drink your blood; do these exorcisms, and now _this?_ You must be joking!”

“I thought you were willing to do anything to save your brother, Sam.”

“You know I am, but… this just seems wrong. He’ll find out, Ruby. They’ll go down there and he’ll find out. They’ll torture him with the thought.” Sam winces. Dean being tortured isn’t something he rather enjoys to think about. He still wishes that goddamn crossroads demon would have let him trade places with Dean.

“That’s the plan, genius. He’ll be so shocked; the others will really believe you’re serious.”

Ruby’s right. Sam  _knows_ she’s right. If he does this, the demons will respect him. Tell him things. Things about Livia, things about Lilith, things about getting people out of Hell  _alive_ – he’ll know everything. He’ll finally be able to get Dean out. When Sam doesn’t answer right away, Ruby storms out of the cabin angrily. He silently asks her not to leave.

Sam takes out the box of letters. Shudders at the title of one of them.

 

_Read this so you know how proud I am of you_

_Sammy, I know whatever you’re going through right now must be ridiculously hard even for you, so let me remind you. You can conquer this like you’ve conquered every other thing that’s been thrown at you the past 24 years._

_You conquered growing up without a mom. You conquered shooting your first gun. You conquered bullies at school. You conquered standing up to Dad – that deserves an award, kid. You conquered your first kiss. You conquered graduating high school despite moving around a lot. You conquered getting into Stanford. You conquered losing Jessica, even though I know you still dream about her. You conquered killing the demon. I know for damn sure you’re gonna conquer losing me. I know you’re gonna conquer whatever the hell is going on._

_You are the strongest person I’ve ever known. Sammy, I swear to god, you can handle this_

_I’m. So. Infinitely. Proud. Of. You._

_You’re my little brother and you can do anything_

_You’re a goddamn superhero_

_Dean_

Quickly, Sam put away the letter to avoid getting tears on it. He ran to the bathroom and threw up again. The truth is, he doesn’t have to conquer losing Dean because he’s going to get him back. He’s going to find out every detail about Hell. He’s going to earn the respect and trust of the sons of bitches that destroyed his family. 

Sam is going to be the Boy King.


	12. Destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /wipes forehead  
> This was difficult to write. Pretty dark. There's some violence in this, so be warned.
> 
> So. It's been two months. I really want to finish this, but it's my baby, so I want it to be perfect. I don't want to rush it. For someone who is constantly stressed out by wip fics, I know what my readers must be thinking, but I assure you I am _not going to cancel or stop writing this fic._ Don't worry. I've been working on this for maybe a year now, so thanks for the people who've stuck around.
> 
> And, as always, if you haven't gone back and re-read the fic, you should probably go do that. I've edited every chapter religiously and changed crucial information. So. Yeah. Do that. 
> 
> Okay that's enough. Enjoy!

When Sam woke up the next morning, he noticed Ruby in bed next to him. She was in one of his sweaters and looked extremely peaceful. He didn’t want to wake her, so he quietly left the bed and tip-toed to the bathroom. Almost instantly, he felt sick, and threw up in the toilet. Confused for a minute, Sam remembered he drank the entire alcohol stock provided by the inn and then some. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, and tried to clean himself up. He’s already drinking demon blood – might as well keep some of his dignity and not look like a frat boy after a night of partying.

 

When he left the bathroom, Ruby was sitting up in bed. She had a smile wiped on her face but there was sadness in her eyes. “Hey, champ.”

“I thought you were sleeping.” Sam replied.

“No. I didn’t sleep last night. When I came back, you were already passed out.” Sam nods and gets back in bed. He knew he was going to have to tell Ruby about his plan, but he didn’t know how she was going to take it. Maybe she would be disappointed, maybe she would be pleased, he didn’t know.

“Ruby, I gotta tell you something,” Ruby raised her eyebrows. “I don’t really know how to say this, but… I found a way to stop Livia.”

“What? What is it?”

“I’m gonna be the Boy King they want. It’ll give me a way to get close to Livia and then eventually to Lilith, just like with Azazel. I took part in his stupid Battle Royale and that definitely gave me an in. Got me close enough for Dean to kill him. If I assume the role, I could go through Livia to get to Lilith and _make_ her bring Dean back.” Ruby’s eyes widened and she was silent for a few moments. She stood and undressed, changing into her own clothes. “Well… what do you think?”

“I think it’s a good idea. We need to practice like crazy, though. Sam, this isn’t a joke. Azazel wanted you to lead his demon army to take over the world, or something. Lilith and Livia… they aren’t power hungry like him. They’re tactful. They know how to rule without causing panic in the world. They’ll make you destroy humanity little by little, they’ll make you kill people, Sam.” Sam swallows.

“I’ll do anything to bring Dean back.”

“You’ll never get to see Bobby and Adam again. Demons will kill them if you try to warn them or tell them it’s an act.” Ruby’s tone is serious, and Sam knows she’s serious. It wouldn’t be the first time demons have killed someone to get back at the Winchesters.

“ _Anything._ ”

“Alright. Let’s get started.”

 

\--------------

 

Later that day, Sam, high on demon blood, and Ruby drove out to Mountain Pine to meet up with a contact of hers. The contact, a demon named Arthur, had captured eight demons who claimed to be some of Lilith’s soldiers. Arthur explained the demons, which were all on their knees in execution positon, had chains on them with devil’s traps to prevent them from willingly leaving their vessels. Sam made a mental note to write that down. Ruby spoke to him quietly while Sam waited, and when she returned, she nodded. She explained in the car he would get to test his powers on them and see what he could do.

 

“You’re not in immediate danger right now, so you can practice as much as you want for as long as you want. Only three of these people are alive, the ones on the far left. Okay? So with the others… go all out. _The Exorcist_ style if you want.” Ruby smirked and Sam rolled his eyes. She squeezed his hand as Arthur stood back. He was right to. A demon is a demon, and Ruby is the only one Sam trusts.

“One wrong move, you’re next.” Sam speaks towards Arthur and the fear in his eyes confirmed he got the message.

 

Sam took a deep breath and started with the demons possessing living people. He went easy on them, doing things that would only hurt the demon. They screamed, and they _screamed_. Luckily, they were in a very unpopulated area, so the noises wouldn’t attract attention. Sam squeezed Ruby’s hand as he clenched and twisted his other fist, drowning in the demons’ screams. He could feel the power surging through him like lighting striking a tree, he could hear his blood rushing through his veins, and he could almost _touch_ the darkness of the demon itself.

 

He began the triple exorcism, smoke puffing out of their bodies and merging on the ground, dancing like dry ice. Just looking at it, just knowing those were demons who knew things about his brother, who would probably go torture Dean themselves, it made him so unbelievably angry, he almost lost his concentration. Instead of letting the anger control him, Sam allowed it to guide him and strengthen his power even more. He let go of Ruby’s hand and held his arms out, palms flat and facing the demons. The people were still on their knees, eyes wide and mouths hanging open – the demons haven’t actually _left_ them yet. The longer the demons were suspended in Sam’s control, the longer they would suffer in their half-conscious state. Unlike before, Ruby didn’t remind him they were people. Instead, she stepped back and pressed him on.

 

Sam wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to be stopped. _Anything to get Dean back. Anything._

Thinking of his brother again, he got infuriated, raised the demons higher, clenched his fist, and fell to the ground, slamming his fists into the grass. With a yell, he could feel blood trickling over his lip and watched as the demon smoke flashed orange like a storm cloud and dissipated. The people fell over on the ground and Ruby went to see them, to see if they were breathing. Sam remained on his knees, hands hanging in front of him, slouched over exhausted. The remaining demons were still chained to the ground and struggling to free themselves. They started to scream in fear and Sam furrowed his eyebrows, snapping all of their necks with a wave of his hand.

 

Arthur stammered backwards and Ruby gasped. She rushed to him and fell to her knees, touching Sam’s face, chest, and arms. She repeated his name and confirmed the people were alive, motioning for Arthur to take them to a hospital. Sam watched in a daze as Arthur untied them and carefully loaded them into a van and drove off. He was out of his body, something had happened to him, something he couldn’t control, something he _enjoyed._

 

“Sam, do you know what you just did? Do you know what happened to those demons? You _killed them._ You didn’t just exorcise them, you _killed_ them. They’re never going to get to Dean. I’m so proud of you, Sam. You just killed demons with your powers. Do you realize how special that makes you? Azazel was right to root for you. You’re so powerful, Sam. You’re gonna take over them all. They want a Boy King? You’re _it_ , Sam. You’re _it._ ” Ruby’s voice was loud but hazy, almost like in a dream, but Sam understood every word clearly.

 

Maybe being the Boy King wasn’t something he _had_ to do. Maybe he could do it. Maybe this is his destiny, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated ♥
> 
> I've also added a timeline post with some info that might help you guys understand how fast this is taking place. That's right [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2799323)!


	13. War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /exhales deeply/
> 
> This chapter was extremely hard to write. I know there are violence warnings on the listing, but this is where it gets... intense. Please, be advised. 
> 
> ATTENTION: IF YOU'RE NOT NEW TO THIS WORK, AND HAVE BEEN READING IT, ///PLEASE/// GO BACK AND RE-READ IT.
> 
> I've made crucial changes to the timeline, changed the letters and other important things. I know it sounds like a pain in the ass but it really will make a hell of a lot more sense if you go back and re-read the whole thing from the beginning. Trust me.

_You are the strongest person I’ve ever known._

Screaming in pain.

 

_Sammy, I swear to God, you can handle this._

Gasping for air.

_I’m. So. Infinitely. Proud. Of. You._

 

_You’re my little brother and you can do anything._

Regaining composure.

 

_You’re a goddamn superhero._

Taking control.

 

“Sam!” Sam heard Ruby’s voice scream his name as he snapped back to consciousness. He sat up quickly, rubbing his temples with his fingers. He glanced to the side and sighed as he saw all the demons were still unconscious, or dormant, or whatever.  “Sam? You scared the shit out of me.”

“What the hell happened, Ruby?” Sam asked, spitting blood onto the grass.

“After you killed those demons, you started seizing. You were bleeding from your nose like you used to do when we first started.” Ruby sounded worried. Sam smiled.

“You worried about me?”

“Shut up. If anything, I’m just overwhelmed. Proud.” Ruby smiled back at Sam and tilted her head towards the chained demons. “You wanna start again while you’re still hot?”

“Yeah. I want to wake them all up… so they can watch the members of their little clique die. One by one.”

 

Ruby got the hint and stood in front of them. “ _Ostende te._ ” At once, the demons surged and returned to consciousness. They looked around for a moment, realized they were still captive, and looked up towards Sam. There was pure fear in their eyes, pure fear and wonder, as they stared at Sam. Sam gave a little wave and smirked, feeling his own blood trickle on his lip.

“Welcome back to the party.” Sam said.

“What do you want with us?” A stupid, yet brave, demon spoke up. Sam focused his attention on the demon possessing a blonde teenager in a letterman’s jacket. There was a poorly stitched cut at least six inches long on his neck, and Sam figured that’s what killed the meat suit. “Why are you holding us here? It’s not like we’re going to tell you anything. We’re _faithful._ We’re faithful to _Lilith._ You went against your entire race by drinking that bitch’s blood. How _dare_ you try to scare us with your powers? You’ll never be as pure as we are.” Sam rolled his eyes and stepped closer to the demon. He kneeled in front of it and gently caressed its ice cold cheek.

“You talk too much.”

 

Sam said matter-of-factly as he held his hand up and with a quick twist of his fingers, ripped the tongue right from the demon’s mouth. The other demons cowered in fear as Ruby laughed loudly. Sam pushed his hand through the demon’s hair and with the assistance of his powers, shoved his other hand straight through the demon’s chest through bone and muscle. The demon struggled to speak as Sam felt around inside of its chest, looking for its heart. Blood poured from the demon’s mouth from the wound and then _more_ blood came rushing out as Sam found the heart and squeezed gently.

 

Sam instantly felt a craving, even though he already had so much. He leaned forward and in a half-assed attempt at a kiss – which isn’t so easy without a tongue – drank straight from the demon’s mouth. He licked up what dripped onto its neck and chin, feeling more power with every swallow. Sam glanced at the demon next to the one he was feeding on and met its dead, green eyes and for only a moment was reminded of the brother he’s doing all of this for. It turned away and Sam shrugged. Finally, after he had his fill, he ripped the demon’s heart right from its chest and threw it on the ground. He yanked the demon from its meat suit and killed it. It was much easier this time considering there was only one and he knew what he was doing. Sam stood up as the body fell to the ground.

 

“What a shame. He was so pretty.”

 

Sam didn’t bother wiping the blood from his mouth or hands as he stepped back towards Ruby. He basked in her pride and thought about _him_ only enough to keep him motivated. If he focused on _him_ too hard, he’ll get all walking-disaster on everyone and bury himself in a hole. He couldn’t do that again. He had to be one hundred percent involved. If he slipped, even once, some punk ass demon would tell _him_ or tell their designated leader. They  would know he was faking it.

 

“What do you think?” he asked Ruby. “You think they’ll talk?”

“After seeing _that_? Yeah, Sam, I think they’ll talk.” Sam squinted and nodded. He walked back towards the demons and held his arms out.

“Who do you work for?” Sam asked comically. He chuckled lowly. “I’m just kidding. This isn’t a James Bond movie. I’m gonna start you off with something simple: Where is Livia?” Silence. Sam put a hand to his ear. “What? What’s that? You _want_ to be tortured?” In one swift motion, Sam ignited a demon possessing a middle-aged soccer mom. The demon was engulfed in flames and screamed until it couldn’t anymore. The corpse burned up, and the demon died with it. “Where. Is. Livia?”

“We don’t know,” A demon inside a dark skinned young woman in professional attire responded in a light English accent. “We haven’t heard from her. Plus, we aren’t her charge. We don’t take orders from her.” Sam raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to the demon.

“What’s your name? And, not your vessel’s name, _your_ name. If you have one, or, had one, or whatever.” Sam asked.

“Marina,” it choked. “My name was Marina.”

“Ah. ‘Of the sea’. So, Marina, what did you mean when you said you aren’t Livia’s charge?”

“Hell works like humanity. It has a class system, especially similar to humankind’s military system. There are cadets, who just run errands and perform minuscule tasks. Then, from the bottom up, there are lieutenants, captains, colonels, generals, and marshals. Demons like us, we’re just lieutenants. We follow orders. Demons like Livia, Lilith, and Azazel are marshals. Demons that make deals are right below them: generals. Of course, our King is above us all. Even though he is trapped, we still all look to him as… as our commander in chief.” Marina took a deep breath and smiled. She was obviously talking about Lucifer, and Sam frowned. He didn’t want to believe a God and a Devil really exist, but there’s confirmation right there. Unless Lucifer is a myth the demons cling to like humans do to God. “The marshals have charges. Livia and Lilith are just two of thousands of marshals, and under them are millions of soldiers. We are just one charge and we are under Lilith’s. We follow only her orders, not Livia’s.” Marina looked up to Sam in a signal she was finished.

“I appreciate the extended metaphor. Alright, so, if you’re taking orders from Lilith, how are you getting her orders? Where is _she_?”

“Mostly we use the blood ritual and communicate that way. I assume you’re familiar with it.” Sam cringed and nodded. “We never know exactly where she is. We haven’t seen her in weeks. The last time we saw her was when you, your brother, and your girlfriend raided the neighborhood we were… occupying.” Sam shuddered.

“You were there? All of you?” The demons nodded. “Do you know why you haven’t seen her?”

“No.” Marina stated.

“It’s because she _fears_ me. She tried to kill me with that white flash thing she does. It didn’t work. Not a scratch on me. She blew up an entire police station filled with people, but I’m immune to it. She’s _weaker_ than me. I’m stronger than her. That’s why you haven’t seen her. She knows I’m coming for her.” Sam straightened and smirked. “She knows I’m planning to take over Hell. She knows I’m going to be the Boy King Azazel wanted, and the one you have all dreamed of.”

 

The demons whispered to each other in shock, fear, confusion. Sam grinned, blood in his teeth, and broke the chains holding all of the demons, except for Marina. He left her chained. They sat still in confusion and Sam squeezed his hands into fists, holding them in their vessels momentarily.

 

“I have a message for your _marshal_. Go to Hell. Go to Antarctica, go to the Alps, go to the bottom of the ocean – you find Lilith, and you tell her I’m coming for her. Tell her to get her shit in order, because I _will_ find her, and when I do, I _will_ make her bring my brother back. You go to Hell, and you tell them I’m coming.” Sam released the demons and they instantly fled their meat suits, escaping in a loud rush of wind and smoke. He raises his eyebrows in satisfaction and shakes his arms around, loosening up again.

“Sam! What the _hell_ did you just do? Do you realize you just declared war?!” Ruby yelled. She was pissed, but Sam didn’t care. This was all part of his plan.

“Calm down, Ruby. I know what I’m doing.” Sam brushed his thumb on Ruby’s cheek and kissed her chastely. When he pulled away, there was a bit of blood on her cheek and lips. She nodded and settled.

“What about her?” Ruby asked lowly.

“Yeah, what _about_ me?” Marina shouted. Sam walked to her and kneeled in front of her like he did with the quarterback. He tilted her chin up with his hand and grinned.

“You’re not entirely pointless. You’re smart. Useful. As long as you keep those bracelets on, and you obey, I won’t kill you. You feed me information, you stay alive.” Marina scowled and Sam tapped her nose. “Don’t worry. You can bejewel them, or whatever.”

 

Sam stood again and pulled the chain from the ground. He broke the chain holding the tight metal bands together so she could move her arms freely but couldn’t leave her vessel willingly. Sam cracks his neck and signals for Ruby to follow him and escort Marina back to the car. As they shoved her in the trunk, Sam apologized for the tight fit and laughed when he shut the door.

 

Ruby and Sam fucked in the backseat before they drove off, loud and messy and needy. He drank from her and drove back to the resort high and in love and cocky and excited. When they returned to the resort, Ruby took Marina into the bathroom and fucked her; most likely knowing Sam was listening. As soon as they finished, Sam took out the box of letters he’s been too distracted to even think about and sifted through them. He found one he could possibly fit in before Ruby got suspicious at his silence.

 

_Read this if you want to hurt yourself, me, and/or someone else_

_Hey, Sammy_

_Whatever I did, you can punch me for it; just try not to aim for the face or the family jewels. That shit is the prize money_

_OK, on a more serious note, Sam. I know you’ve dealt with some really rough shit with Dad and with losing Jessica and everything, but it really isn’t worth hurting yourself. Not a day goes by, not a fucking day, where I don’t worry I might be seeing you for the last time. After all we’ve been through, Sammy, you can’t fuckin leave me like that. You just cant. Make your death mean something, ~~baby~~ kiddo. Don’t do whatever you’re thinking about, because ~~I lov~~ you’re my brother and I won’t let you_

_Lastly, if you want to hurt someone else… it damn sure better be justified. I’m already the screw up of the family, I’m not gonna let you go darkside. I’m not gonna make good on the fucking bogus promise I made to Dad before he died. Youre so good, Sammy. Youre so good, baby boy. Please don’t ever doubt that. Hold on to that. Even after I’m gone, whenever that is. Please. Stay good. Stay gold, Pony Boy._

_Dean_

_PS I know I just made a reference to_ The Outsiders _, but how couldn’t I? It was right there and it’s one of your favorite books_

 

Sam calmly put the letter back and gently placed the box back in his bag. He walked outside and screamed in misery, falling to the ground and ripping grass out with his hands. A waterfall of salty tears poured from his eyes and he certainly didn’t feel as good as he did an hour before. His high was decreasing and all he wanted to _do_ was hurt someone, despite what he just read. Fuck, Sam missed _him_ so much; he couldn’t even _think_ his name without getting upset. Briefly he remembered what Ruby mentioned earlier: _Do you realize you just declared war?!_

He didn’t declare war on Lilith. Lilith declared war on him the minute Dean stopped breathing, and fuck it all if Sam wasn’t going to win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my two cents: Sam was absolutely, definitely, thinking about Brady during his intimate-ish encounter with the cute blonde demon. Of course I ship Ruby/Marina. There's a shitload of dialogue but whatever. Of course I just made my Sam openly pansexual. ♥ I'm still thinking about/laughing about a very tired and stunned Sam snapping like eight demons' necks with a flick of his hand and an exasperated look on his face from the last chapter. Also, I shamelessly used Abaddon's speech to those demons as inspiration for Sam's lil' speech. Accidentally used a direct quote. Whoops.
> 
> I hope this wasn't as difficult to read as it was to write. I'm all for gore, but actually putting it into words and picturing it over and over again... ah. Just a lil' difficult, but I'm tough. Thank you for reading (if more than two people are actually reading this). xxxx
> 
> I'm aiming for the next chapter to be written and posted during the first week of the new year!


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